


Slink

by Ergoemos



Category: Magience
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-02-19 12:09:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 51,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2387795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ergoemos/pseuds/Ergoemos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Krymnt just started the game of Magience, a highly complicated virtual reality game that operates via a headset. While she likes MMOs well enough, this one caught her attention particularly because she could play it while sleeping, which she always saw as a waste of good time anyway. Unfortunately, Krymnt quickly finds that the world of Magience neatly leaps over the uncanny valley by several miles, becoming far too realistic far too quickly for her taste. By all rights, she can't give back the life she as already taken... but Krymnt was willing to try anything, including track down a few rumors of an artifact that allowed players to rewrite the lives of NPCs completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Login

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all. This is my first fanficion of the webcomic Magience, which centers around a virtual reality MMORPG that has more secrets than it doesn't. This fiction is mostly for myself to sort of work through my own personal demons as well as the demons I've created out of the game's mythos. The main character is a self-insert original character, though I'd feel more guilty about this if the main comic wasn't much the same. 
> 
> Much love to the creators of Magience, Faewild and Shiloh, for all the tender care and passion they have put into their work, and I hope they don't mind the bent I take this on, though I doubt they would expect much different from me. I plan on writing more stuff for this and other fanfiction actually involving the characters of the comic in the future too.
> 
> Upfront warning to all readers: Excessive existentialism and some self-harm expressed in the story. The story has only been proofread once or twice by myself so no promise on quality of editing
> 
> Thanks, and have a good day!

When Krymnt woke up, the earth was shaking. She didn't quite understand it at first and her eyes refused to open immediately. Her upper body lay flat on the ground, but her tail wound carelessly in and out around objects near her. She was thankful she was so flexible or the angles might hurt.

Wait. Krymnt didn't have a tail, not in real life. The sudden discordant feeling filled her mind as she wondered why she didn't feel the discord of lacking legs. She rubbed at her eyes feeling something flake away, like a crust of something that made an audible dry sound, like sand against paper.

The air was filled with the sound of squeaking wood and the clomping of something big. She might have heard voices in the distance as well, and the chitter of wildlife, birds and the like, but she wasn’t sure what exactly it was.

Finally, Krymnt could open her eyes and stare around the at the world. She found it was rather small, consisting of a covered wagon with the entrances sealed from light by canvas or some other material.

It was dark, though she could still make out the shapes of things around her without much trouble. There were boxes and pots around the back of the large wagon, loosely grouped by the type of container and secured to the wagon by rope. Her tail, easily ten feet long, wove around a small box and then doubled back to wrap around several large sealed vases.

Experimentally, she tried to unwind her tail, finding the action came without any effort, easy and natural. Already in wonder at the abilities of the world to accommodate her, Krymnt straightened her tail a little, wrapping around the box, which was about as tall as where her knees would be, if she were a bipedal creature.

She lifted herself up, more or less “sitting” on the box to look herself over, starting at her tail. She wasn't good at these sort of measurements, from the tip of her tail to her waist, she had about thirteen or fourteen feet of strong, coiled tail to make up the bottom half of her body.

Her tail was patterned, black diamonds running up her much extended spine, surrounded by a color that her mind’s eye translated as a bright forest green, hard to discern in the darkened wagon. The diamond pattern had a couple secondary smaller strands of black that trailed around the large primary pattern, a set of marksthat wrapped around her tail, before trailing up her bare stomach in a lazy trail to wrap back under her arms and onto her back and out of sight.

This lead her to begin examining her stomach and, for lack of tact, her torso in general. Her hands, before this point had been held awkwardly to the side as if trying to figure out what to do with themselves, began tracing her body at her waist, slowing trailing up her stomach. She could feel the small scales that made up her skin, even though they weren't visually distinct without close examination. When her hands reached her chest, covered in a cute red wrap of fabric, they paused. She had small breasts, but clearly, without any doubt, they were breasts. Without needing to explore, she knew that she had other female distinctive genitalia as well.

Krymnt felt a shudder of some indistinct, uncontrollable feeling rush through her, a sense indescribably caught between joy, terror, wonder, alarm, and upliftment. That sense suffused her body, as the tremble traveled all the way down her spine, along her coils of tail. Instinctively, she had coiled tighter, and the box she was resting around creaked ominously at her casual strength.

She tried to relax a little but the emotion flooded her completely. Unbidden, her hands went to her face, and she tried very, very hard not to cry loudly, though tears streamed uncontrollably. Krymnt was tempted to leave then, log out and get a grip of herself and relax. Her mouth opened to speak when she heard voices nearby.

A little wild, she pulled her head from her hands to look around the dark room, trying to figure out where they came from. She was still streaming tears, but her eyes locked on the back of the wagon, where she could see seams in the canvas leaking a bare bit of light.

Her body was still trembling and she was still shaken by the indescribable change in her body, she was about to logout again, before anyone could see her. A voice called out, “Krymnt? You alright in there?”

Jaws locked, she didn’t respond as the canvas bulged a little, then a zipper began to run up the center, hidden by previously by a flap of fabric. The light quotient increased by quite a bit, and a head stuck into the wagon, taking up half of the space created.

It was hard to see against the flood of light in the dark room, but she could make out a distinctly cat-like face, covered in grey fur and spotted with black, concern written on their face. “Krymnt? You awake in here? We heard something creak.”

Krymnt, still trying to keep up, blinked and looked down, rubbing her eyes as if the sunlight hurt, but mostly hiding her tears. Her coils had been squeezing the poor life out of the box beneath her during her sweep of emotion.

She spoke suddenly, her voice almost familiar, though just a little more wispy than usual, “Oh! Um, sorry. I was, I was-... I just woke up.” She loosened her grip on the box, which was no doubt as stressed out as she was. There was another audible creak, this one in sudden relaxation. She didn't look up until she was pretty certain that she’d be able to make out the other person’s face clearly.

Speaking came naturally with the forked tongue, a little narrower than she was used to, but otherwise perfectly functional. She felt another tremble run down her body as she smiled awkwardly at the face she didn't recognize. She had to consciously work to keep from coiling up tightly again, this time in awkwardness.

The feline face split into a friendly, almost jovial smile, “No worries, Krymnt! We were simply worried about you out here. You said your head hurt this morning, and we didn't know if we needed to start looking for a practiced healer soon. Your rest clear your head?”

Krymnt swallowed, an interesting sensation, as she could feel that her esophagus extended some distance past where her stomach would have been for a human creature. “Um. Yes? A little. Where am I?”

Krymnt had never felt more clearheaded than she did right then, and she had work to not fidget in her adrenaline rush brought on by her earlier momentary breakdown.

Concern crept into the feline-man’s face, and she wondered if she said something wrong, “Are you sure you are alright, lass? You’re in my wagon. It’s about two hours before nightfall, so its a good time to get up. You slept right through lunch, so I am sure you are hungry.”

Krymnt couldn't really say if she was hungry, because she was still trying to process everything, “I've… I feel fine.” She was breathing a little harder, the tremble still didn't leave her body, but she moved forward, naturally, unnaturally, uncoiling herself and moving towards the feline anthropomorph, a Kassilik, if she remembered correctly, still at the back of the wagon. “I think I might… I think I need to get my bearings.”

She didn't want to say something stupid. Her mind was racing and she didn't want to upset anyone. The Creative Assistant said that the game would place her into an ongoing story, and that each player's beginning was different. This was not quite what Krymnt expected, and she was definitely, if she had the chance to talk to them again ever, going to ask some more pointed questions towards the yellow and pink A. I. that helped her pick a form.

The Kassilik, whom she was pretty certain was male, nodded vigorously, “Sure, lass, you aren't a prisoner or anything.” She wondered if she imagined the suspicious glint in his eye. She decided to pretend she had.

Krymnt approached the back of the wagon, a little concerned about how she would find her way off of the moving vehicle without limbs she was more accustomed to using. The back curtain opened wider for her, as the felinid man opened up the cover, showing the world at large before her.

She stopped a moment at the back to look around at the scenery. They were certainly in in what she would have called a savannah of some kind, if there were savannahs on Earth populated by clusters of boulders the size of small buildings every few acres. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the light, though she kept blinking anyway, as everything seemed a bit off, like there was a filter over everything, but it was a sensation she couldn't really put her finger on.

She was on what looked like an almost stereotypical wagon from old times, though it was attached with a winch to another wagon before her, that one open-topped and carrying more barrels and boxes. There was a ledge on the back of the wagon she was in, the same ledge the concerned Kassilik had sat on until he hopped off to make room for her to get down.

She wove herself up then down the wagon’s back panel, resting on the ledge just long enough to wonder how she was going to get down from the moving wagon, when her body moved for her, natural as can be, the back of her tail gripping the wagon slightly while she slither-lowered herself from the ledge to the ground, to the side of the wagon itself. From there it was easy as she continued to move off the wagon, her tail following quickly. She paused next to the Kassilik, who was stopped long enough for her to get her bearings.

Once she was fully off the wagon, her tail tip free of the wheels dutifully crunching down on fine-gravel road, he began walking along the wagon again, and she followed without any hesitation, to her surprise.

Movement seemed natural, her tail pushing along the ground with a slow, easy undulation. She could move much faster, she could tell, but the wagons were moving at a brisk walking speed for the long limbed Kassilik, an easy crawl for her. She couldn't see any other races along the caravan, which consisted of the three wagons, the lead of which she had crawled out of. There were a couple wagons ahead, and more behind, all of them being pulled by bizarre giant, ant-like machines, steam-punk but made out of a mixture of wood and aluminum. Kyrmnt couldn't see any steam coming out of them, but they appeared to move on their own with minimal guidance.

“You doing alright, Krymnt?”

Krymnt didn't jump so much as missed a slither, veering away from the voice. She moved back into place and turned her head towards the Kassilik who had checked on her. There were a couple other nearby, each of them looking at her curiously and with concern. She smiled vaguely, uneasy with how concerned they were about her. She didn't know these folk, not really, but apparently they were written to know her? It was all vaguely uncomfortable. It was a level of familiarity that made exceeded the uncanny valley by several miles. These AI were too real for comfort already.

“I… I think so, but I will confess, I don’t recall your name. Or what I am doing on this caravan…” Or anything, obviously, as she wasn't an actual person in this world. She was a player character. Or was she? These people acted like they knew her. How much did they know about her? How would the game render Krymnt to these NPCs?

It was a little weird, so she tried not to think about it. She kind of wished she could pause the game so she could catch up get used to the game a little first, before being thrown into the plot. She wanted to admire the world, admire herself even, a little before being forced into playing the game. Instead, she focused on the conversation

Even now, the cat-person looked fascinated, as if she had done something extraordinary, “You don’t remember? You've been traveling with us for almost a month now… I’m Winstrum. Our caravan is traveling towards the Devil’s Castle though we won’t make it that far…” He glanced at one of the curious cat-folk nearby. Krymnt knew they were all curious, because half their ears were perked towards their conversation. Winstrum continued, “So… What do you remember?”

Krymnt wondered if she’d just sign out now, would this awkwardness go away for a bit. When the Creative Assistant laughed at Krymnt's question about being placed in a roleplay-focused server, she had simply been confused. Now, however, she began to understand. The NPCs were all dynamic, even intelligent, and could respond to new stimuli without much or any delay. Maybe Magience put a lot of production and processing power into the introduction to the game, so that players will be awed?

Krymnt was certainly awed and disturbed. Nothing about Winstrum or the other NPCs was actually uncanny. They seemed like people. If she didn't know any better, she would have said they were players too. The graphics and character put into everything was unreal. She could even feel the fine gravel along every inch of her tail, as if she really did have a fifteen foot long tail.

Krymnt chewed, very lightly, of course, on her tongue, which was lightly forked. Her teeth were sharp, so it wouldn't be hard to snip something unintentionally. “I… Nothing. I don’t remember anything but my own name.” She did remember plenty of things, but most of them were outside the context of Magience. She got the distinct feeling that talking to the NPCs about the idea that she was an extra-dimensional visitor who possessed the body of someone they knew, in order to play a complicated video game would be taboo, even if they were programmed not to understand.

The man, speckled like a grey furred cheetah, smiled, showing off his own sharp teeth, “Well, I’ll be… Hey, Slenderwick, Krymnt turned out to be one of Fate’s Own! Would you believe that?” another cheetah-like cat person who’d been walking along the wagon behind them, perked up, speeding his pace to catch up.

Slenderwick was shorter than Winstrum, but far wider, built more like a brick wall than any of them. Of course, Krymnt could, nominally be taller than either of them, but at their current pace, she found herself moving most comfortably at about eye level with Winstrum, at a few inches shorter than six feet tall. She herself was wider than any of the catfolk. She'd picked a python variety of the Nagaens, which are known for their strength over their poison potency.

Slenderwick, a tawny fellow, smiled at Krymnt, putting his hand on her shoulder, “You feeling okay, girl? What’s it like?”

Krymnt frowned, “What do you mean? ‘Fate’s Own’?” Something about this was tickling the back of her mind, that the Nagaens were people that followed some bizarre astrological sign system to assign childhood roles. It had been explained to her by the Creative Assistant, but Krymnt herself didn't really have much to say about it. Krymnt would follow the “Destiny” that might have been bestowed upon her, if it was interesting, but otherwise, she just wanted to play a game that might otherwise optimize her wasted sleeping hours.

Winstrum shrugged on the other side of her, saying, “Well, if you don’t really remember anything, I guess I understand your confusion. So, Fate has a way of choosing people. These people sort of get disoriented for a few days, then wake up without memories and such, and they usually become adventurers or sell-swords, trying to improve the world, because they are usually extraordinary.” He motioned to Krymnt herself, “And if you are a Sleeper, then that means that you are one of Fate’s Chosen.” He seemed happy, but Krymnt was horrified.

“You mean you have in-ga-” She clamped down on her words so fast she took damage. She could feel the bizarre sensation of “warning” the game told her when she was close to being hurt or taking light damage, like a buzzing in her jaw from clamping down so hard. Both of them were staring at her fascinated, like she was about to say something juicy and interesting.

She swallowed again, before continuing, “You have, um lore concerning people who are chosen by Fate to, um, become adventurers?”

Slenderwick nodded, “Oh yes. Very curious. Super curious. One of those great mysteries in the world.” He hesitated, “It’s not usually, hm, respectful to go around trying to dig into a god’s business, you know? So people try not to pry. Too much. If they can help it.”

Krymnt didn’t need to be told that they were both dying for her to talk about being a ‘Sleeper’. She remembered the Creative Assistant saying that the Kassilik are curious folk and engineers, which would have fit her fairly well. Krymnt didn’t have any particular love for cats, and she does enough engineering during the day, she didn't want to do it in her sleep.

Krymnt answered carefully, “I don’t know much about Fate really. I don’t… I will answer what I can, but could you answer some of my questions too?” These people seemed genuinely worried about her well-being, so she didn't want to be rude and she had a lot of questions too, because she didn't know how this whole thing worked.

Slenderwick nodded quickly, as Winstrum gave a dismissive gesture. The grey cat that initially checked on her answered, “Of course, of course. Here we are, blathering when you are clearly still a little disoriented. Forgive our curiosity, lass. What questions do you have?”

Krymnt ran her tongue along her teeth, a safer alternative to chewing lightly. The scenery around them was amazingly rendered. She felt a little silly even calling them graphics, as she was suspecting that the game was some how stimulating her visual cortex directly. She certainly couldn't believe that the headset she was wearing could be making all this happen without using some sort of external processor, or she’d have burn marks as it overheated at her temples and ears.

Instead of wondering at the world, she asked, “What do you mean, Sleeper? And, um, do I have any possessions? What am I doing with you folks?” She didn't see any other Nagaens with the caravan, which extended about a block ahead of her ahead of her, and another three blocks behind.

She wasn't feeling exposed, precisely, while wearing just her, well, it was pretty much just a scarf tied at her back to cover her chest. But she would like to know if she had a change of clothes somewhere, or some sort of currency on hand.

The pair of them started talking at the same time. They looked at each other in front of Krymnt, and Winstrum motioned to his tan fellow. The stouter Slenderwick began first, “Well, Sleepers and Fate’s Own? Their the same thing. Chosen by the Goddess, they are generally destined for greatness. I don’t know why they are called Sleepers, don’t think anyone does. But they do sometimes vanish for days or weeks at a time, just poof and they are gone. I saw a couple of them do it by a fountain in the center of Sharn once. I could read their lips, they were saying goodbye and then, poof! they vanished into the wind.”

Apparently tipped off by Krymnt’s alarm, Winstrum spoke up, “Oh, it wasn’t dramatic as that. And don’t worry. Sleepers always come back, or almost always come back. It just takes a few days or weeks. Even if you go away, I’d not worry. Sleepers don’t seem worried right before they vanish.”

“More importantly,” he motioned to the wagon they were walking along, “you were traveling along with us to make some sort of delivery to a Nagaens settlement out in the foothills. Your stuff is in the wagon.” He leaned forward again to talk to the shorter Slenderwick, “I will go get it, if Slenderwick promises not to ask any interesting or troubling questions while I am gone…”

Slenderwick stuck his tongue out at the leaner, taller Winstrum, but said, “Go get her stuff. I will just answer questions.”

Winstrum chuckled, “Try not to panic the poor lass too.”

Krymnt was still thrown off by the whole idea that NPCs were aware of player signing in and out of the game. She supposed, distantly, that it made sense if this was a persistent, consistent world, but it was eerie to her. She’d watched and read too much science fiction to not be uncomfortable with the idea that her video game was self-aware.

Alone with Slenderwick, she felt she had to dig deeper into the rabbit hole, not so much tumbling as slithering down against her will. “What was…” She didn't want to ask that question yet. It was already bothering her. She wasn't quite getting a headache, but pressure was building.

Instead, she asked a slightly less bothersome question, “What is this caravan transporting? What is your life like?”

Slenderwick seemed a little disappointed but more amused by her mundane question, “Mining equipment, supplies and alchemical reagents. The Devil’s Castle Mountains are active volcanos and host some really nasty creatures, but they are rich with crystals and rare metals. Me and Winstrum and our wives have some luxuries too, enchanted goods and the like to barter for some larger crystals. We are thinking about heading around in a grand circle to trade with the elves next, taking them some of the rarer metals and working them into jewelry. Sleepers seem to like that sort of thing the most. My wife and I are having our first kid soon, so she’s minding the walker, and Winstrum’s wife is head of the hunters, so she is out getting dinner. They oughta be back soon. Skirting the edges of the Devil’s Breath like this can bring some more dangerous local predators, but its safer than braving the sands, half of which burn when they get in your fur, even when they are cold, and the lava flows are too common for my tastes. No problem for you though. Several nomadic Nagaens make their way through there, but they aren’t quite as social as the city-slithers that we have run across. Ah, not that I mean to insult you. I heard that term from one of the farming Nagaens down south, and I thought it was pretty funny. Anyway, I have been working on refining my ore-ery though everyone keeps telling me to change the name. I think we will be in town for at least a couple weeks so it should give me time for the last few fine touches and for Miltia, Winstrum’s wife, to find a buyer.”

Krymnt blinked, nodding slowly, politely, along the way. As he spoke, Winstrum came back, with a backpack, a spear like weapon with hooked end, and a couple large pouches that seemed to be interconnected by leather straps. He offered her the backpack first, which she knew pretty obviously how to put on.

The pouches, something in her wanted to call them saddlebags, were a bit more of a mystery. She looked at them, puzzled for a few moments, before realizing how the clasps worked. She unhooked them, left with just the pouches in one hand and several straps stitched to a hard but flexible flat stretch of leather in the other. She placed the flat part on the ground and slithered on top of it before turning around one-hundred and eighty degrees to attached the saddlebags to the top of her tail via clasps. She cinched them tightly to her, one strap coming around her waist right where her body bent ninety degrees away from the ground.

This wasn't quite automatic, she had to pause to get it right, but something about the tail-bag seemed natural, obvious, like Krymnt had done it a hundred times before. Maybe she had. The thought made her tremble, a shiver sliding from her shoulders down to the back of her tail. This kind of muscle memory was scarily strong. No human would intrinsically understand how these bags worked without some external stimuli. Was this game affecting how she thought, how she reasoned? How does the game simulate the innate increased intelligence of the Nagaens? How did she know how to slither? What would the dysphoria be like when she took off the helmet?

The two waited on her to finish, and they picked up their pace to catch up with the trio of wagons and its ant-like automaton, and Winstrum handed her the hook-ended staff that Winstrum claimed was hers. She examined the shaft, made of a hard wood she didn't recognized, then the hook, made of what appeared to be aluminum but was far too heavy for alumium.

It was strange and foreign in her hands for a moment, but it became natural to hold it balanced at her side, the hook end about two feet in front of her, and the remaining five feet of the haft along her tail.

Bizarre equipment seeming completely natural, and a natural history that was bizarrely detailed for an NPC, and Krymnt was no less weirded out by the game. Winstrum asked what they talked about, and Slenderwick gave a brief answer. She wondered if she slinked away, would they remember her? Would they worry? Why were they so social, so realistic?

Even now, some of her discomfort showed on her face. Slenderwick hesitated a moment, before reaching up a little to put his paw on her shoulder, “You alright, Krymnt? You seem really bothered.”

Krymnt shook her head a little, not really able to lie about it, and why would she? They were NPCs, right? Its not like they would remember her, or the conversation, nor would it matter if she vanished then and there. Would they? She asked the question she dreaded once it came to her mind several minutes ago. “What was Krymnt like? Did she… What did you know about her?”

The two of them looked at each other, then back at her. Slenderwick spoke first, “But you are Krymnt. Shouldn’t you…”

She felt herself go more bleak, as she stuck her left knuckle into her mouth. Did she kill some NPC and take her place to be here? She couldn't… well, these people were so full of life and story. It wasn't uncanny valley because it was perfectly canny. These people were programmed to feel, to love, to think. What right did she have to take her place among them. What place did she, the player, have any right to take Krymnt's, the girl Nagaen, place in the world? What if Krymnt had a love or family? That buzzing sensation, akin to damage without pain, that said that she was losing health, radiated from her finger.

And she could taste the blood in her mouth. A small little trickle, caused by her needlepoint teeth, sharp and more coppery than the blood outside of the game.

Winstrum, the slightly more tactful of the two, spoke up, worry in their voice, “Hey, Krymnt, its okay lass. You will get your memories back. Here, let me talk about you for a bit. Maybe it will jog something. Slenderwick, dear, would you mind going to the front of the line and asking when we will be resting for the night? Miltia-love hasn’t gotten back and they may be struggling to keep up with a larger find.

Slenderwick nodded uncertainly at Krymnt, who could only see out of her peripheral vision. She was looking down at the ground, trying to reassure herself this game was just a game, but not having much luck, with the soft friendly touch of Winstrum on her shoulder, and his soft voice speaking about a foreign and familiar person.

“Krymnt was a nice girl, fairly shy but friendly and quick with a joke, before moving back to the periphery of the conversation. She seemed a little distant at first, but sort of like Slenderwick's wife, Combust, who likes her privacy. Krymnt was a courier, like I said, something the Stars decreed for her, though she explained that she didn't so much believe in outright fate so much given that the Stars were just super distant balls of fire like the Sun. She was curious, almost as much as a fellow Kassilik, and she freely shared her knowledge, unlike some Nagaens that use it like currency. She was smart, gave a few pointers to me about crossing the Sharis Desert with our Auto-chitons next time.” Winstrum paused, “She was very kind, but almost nervous too, like she was afraid of offending people..." He paused, emphasizing the word, "Krymnt.”

She was breathing heavily, trying hard not to bite down harder on her meaty part of her finger between the knuckle and the first joint. It was hard to swallow, all of this. The blood stained her mouth a nasty flavor and she slunk lower to the ground with each sentence.

When Winstrum said her name, he stopped, standing in front of her, above her, with both hands on her shoulders. She looked up at him, having cleaned her finger of blood.

He looked down at her, now a good foot taller, and repeated, “Krymnt. You are all those things. You are Krymnt. Its okay to be confused. Its okay to be scared and worried and unsure. But don’t feel alone. We like you and we will help you get better. You may not even been a Sleeper. When we round up for the night, I will get our healer for you. He may know what this is. Don’t panic, alright? We are worried about you, lass, and you don’t need to be afraid, because you aren't alone, right?”

With this, she looked down at her finger. A little drop of blood, more blue than she was used to seeing, welled out of the bite mark. She could see other little pinprick scars on her finger, across her hand and even up her forearm. A virtual constellation of tiny scars, Krymnt had a bad habit of biting herself when frustrated or nervous, like herself. Or Krymnt used to have the habit, when she was around. Or she still does, given that she likely just added another slightly paler dot on her skin. It was more than confusing, but terrifying and all too real. Those scars were too real, too personal, and too much. Even if Krymnt would have loved this game in other circumstances, she wasn't comfortable anymore.

Tears welled up in her eyes as her left hand fell to her side. Winstrum gave her a hug, awkward around her spear, but attempting to console her, even patting her hung head. Her breath came in broken gasps, though she didn't quite sob as Winstrum shushed her gently and patted her back.

These people cared about a girl that didn't exist, and she took that from them. She took her from them. Krymnt was shuddering again in slowly falling light of evening, and the wagon was getting further away and she was taking out time from Winstrum’s day to deal with her issues. His kindness just made it worse.

She took in one more shaky breath, before saying, “No. Sorry. Winstrum. J- Just- I am okay. You go be with Slenderwick and Miltia and Combust, alright? I will be nearby.” She looked up into his face and she could tell he didn't believe her. “I-I promise, okay? I will be nearby. I’ll come with you to catch up to the wagon and stay within eyesight, alright? I- I can’t take up your time, I need to be alone, I think I screwed up and-”

His hand covered her mouth a moment and he said, “Alright, lass, no worries. Lets get back with the others and I will give you some privacy to think things through. You don’t have to stay in sight, but stay nearby on the path. There are some mighty big lionants in this part of the country and they are vicious pack-hunters that prey on those separated from others.”

She nodded and they made their way back towards the front of the caravan, which seemed to be forming itself up into a sort of oval of protection along the road. She saw Slenderwick with another tan Kassilik, this one clearly female and possibly pregnant, though not obviously so yet, if it was Combust. Windstrum held her shoulder the whole way there and when they were within easy earshot of the other two, he patted her shoulder and caught up to Slenderwick before he could come by to check on the Krymnt, who probably looked at least half as desolate as she felt.

She wandered towards the back of their three hitched wagons, squeezing between the wagon and the auto-chiton of a different wagon-driver, black with white spots, who smiled and nodded at her, friendly and concerned. She nodded back, but couldn’t must a smile.

She didn't plan on going far, simply moving to the other side of the wagon for a little privacy. There were still some of the catfolk, whom she assumed were spotters, on alert for trouble, on this side of the wagons, outside of the oval. None of them were very close to her, and she bit her lip lightly, before saying “System Menu.”

Having never once opened the menu while playing, she looked around at the displays for a moment, a little alert popping up to warn her that the game was not paused and that she could still get attacked while looking at the menus. She turned it off and moved the menus out and away from her face, so she could see her surroundings a little better, and still read the menu.

The HUD showed a picture of Krymnt’s face, a young looking woman with the same bright green scales, blocky-faced and plain, with a sweep of black, curly hair cut a little past her shoulders. It said she was a Nagaens (Python) and she had an element of Earth. She was level 1, and had already accumulated enough experience to get eighty percent of the way to her next level, though she didn’t know how that worked. Her class was as a Novice and she had no ailments.

Her stats were relatively indecipherable, as she had no idea what the number scales were tied to, but her Strength, Intelligence and Vitality were highest, while her Dexterity, Agility and Charisma were notably lower. She had a luck score of “C” and her HP was already at max again after biting herself, her finger no longer bleeding.

There were options to see her abilities, skills, spells, social network, and quests, but she wasn't interested in those options. Instead, she selected the Help option.

There was a bit of a tone in the air and before her, just above the menu screen, a floating figure appeared.

About the size of Krymnt's fist, a glowing androgynous figure with dragonfly wings appeared, glowing brightly enough to obscure their shape, though the light quickly tapered off, only providing faint illumination on the side of the wagon.

As they asked, “How may I help you today?” she shut down the menu.

Krymnt started her inquisition, “Hey, I am uncomfortable with how this game works. It feels and sounds like I just possessed someone’s body in a real world, and took away their own life. I don’t like it. Can I quit the game and start with a blank slate? Like, as a character who just emerges without ties to the game world and completely new?”

The helper floated in a circle, lazily and the bright blue color started to cycle through other colors. “One moment, querying.”

It took a minute, and Krymnt had time enough to look at a couple of the caravan guards, a couple of which were staring at her with nonchalance and interest both. When she met their eyes, they casually looked away, as if their own eyes had just been wandering. She shuddered. Of course the game wouldn’t make the Help system invisible to the NPCs. She bet they could see her looking at the menus. This game was so weird. Creepy. She didn't like it, even though it was probably the most immersive game she had ever played. Even if it felt natural to simply *be* in the game and *be* Krymnt.

Finally, the fairy figure spoke up, its tiny voice polite and apologetic, “There is no way to start the game with a blank slate. It would ruin the aesthetic of the game and be impossible to program for all the inconsistencies for the non-Player Characters.”

She nodded, not surprised, “Then, if I delete my character and stop playing, will Krymnt still be in the game? Like, will she return to the game and get to live out her life? I don’t like being responsible for taking someone else’s place against their will. This game is too creepy realistic.” She’d rather just quit the game outright.

The fairy did the same rotating, color-wheel thinking motion. Krymnt rested the butt of her hook staff on the ground and gripped it with both of her large hands. She wasn't used to being quite so wide, or strong, but Krymnt, either by genetics or workout, had a strong frame about her, wider even than the stout, for a Kassilik, Slenderwick.

It was probably genetics. She remembered when creating, or was it choosing, the race and appearance for the character, she had picked the stronger Nagaens python sub-race as her main choice. She wondered if there was some way to find out who her parents were, and decided, vehemently, not to do so if she could help it.

It burned her, to think that before she even started playing, Krymnt had a family, parents that were unique and distinct and had their own histories. Maybe she had siblings and friends that would mourn the death of Krymnt, if they knew. She shuddered. Of course this world would simulate funerals too.

She struggled to keep herself from biting anything else, her hand, her lip, anything, but she still shook.

She entered this game for some escapism. She wanted to have fun. But even as she first woke up, it's been jarring realization after another. She couldn't even enjoy being herself for a few minutes.

This wait was longer, but the answer no less disappointing. The fairy stopped rotating and returned to its natural, neutral white glow. "I'm sorry. Character that are deleted disappear from Magience and cannot be recovered."

Krymnt stood there, thinking. Slowly, she stopped shaking and shivering. She killed Krymnt and took her place as some shitty doppelganger. And she couldn't fix it.

Her heart still pounded in her chest, harder than it ever did in real life. The sun was setting and she stood there, alone, but for the fairy.

The fairy seemed to hesitate a moment, floating down into her eyesight which was aimed at roughly three feet in front of her, at the ground. "Would you like for me to put in an official inquiry as to your question? Maybe the GMs can offer a better solution than I can?"

Krymnt looked up at the fairy and sighed. "Sure. I'd appreciate that. Do I need to do anything?"

The fairy gave a happy little rotation in the air and a levitating screen popped up with a couple paragraphs of text in it. "Please just make sure my phrasing matches what your intended inquiry might be!"

The Nagaens girl looked it over for a few moments before deciding that it properly summarized her existential crisis succinctly and far less ramble-y than she would have otherwise written it.

She accepted it and thanked the help fairy. It gave a little twirl at her gratitude, but apologized that they couldn't do more to help. Krymnt watched it wink out of existence and she sighed, turning back towards the caravan circle and wondering how much she wanted to face the others that had been so kind to her earlier.

She thought about logging out right then, but it wouldn't do her any good. She’d just be going back to sleep for work in the morning. So if the moderators gave her an answer sometime before dawn, she wouldn't know about it, because she would be just sleeping.

Krymnt sighed, and decided to stay logged in, at least long enough to get to the town tomorrow, so that if she could give Krymnt back her own life, she might be safe from the dangers of the trail.


	2. User Interface

Discouraged, but not willing to give up quite yet on the chance to get out of the game with zero impact on the NPCs- including giving Krymnt her life back- Krymnt got back into the protected oval of wagons. All around her were about twice as many Kassilik as she saw before, and she wondered where all of them came from. She did see a few of them go into the wagons, looking tired, and wondered if most of them had just been napping during the trip. She shook her head at the idea of cat folk taking naps all the time, but she supposed the game was trying to base it in a familiar reality, like it needed more verisimilitude.

Krymnt slowly wandered back towards where she last saw Winstrum, Slenderwick and Combust, given that she really, truly didn't know anyone else. Most of the people were gathered near where a large pit was being made. At first, she thought something was digging up giant slabs of earth themselves, but then she saw it was one of the auto-chitons with a specialized set of front claws. The pit wasn't deep so much as it was wide, and as Krymnt approached, there was some sort of signal and the ant-thing retreated, while several of the catfolk started putting what looked like coal into the pit, if coal were to glow with some sort of red-looking mist.

Finally, when there were about twenty of the stones in the wide shallow pit, everyone backed up half a step and one of the cat folk who seemed to be guiding the obscure ritual snapped his fingers, and there was a green spark above the coals, a moment of silence, then a small ‘whump’ as all the coals caught at once, bursting into merry flames that were about two feet high.

There was a quick cheer, and people scattered, kids running off to play, and adults gathering things together. There were a couple high fives between two of the Kassilik that were wearing goggles and robes across the way from her, and she shook her head, confused but reassured it wasn't anything more bizarre to add to her confusion.

If she were one to speculate, and she absolutely was, she guessed that they might have been testing something with the coal. Maybe it was enchanted somehow. What would enchanted fuel act like? Making it burn longer or brighter is the easiest answer, but still she didn't know really, and was mostly just speculating aimlessly, since she didn't know the magic system in the game. 

The next hubbub was at the back end of the oval surrounding the road, where there were a group of Kassilik pulling in something on a cart that looked like a dinosaur without feathers, about the size of two or three horses. She thought she could see the grey furred Winstrum amongst the people helping out, but she wasn't sure, and decided to feel a little awkward in the open space near the fire, without any idea what she could do to help.

It was here in that she could see it wasn't just a congregation of Kassilik that were on the road. She saw a couple almost human looking elves, and a bird woman that gave Krymnt a nasty look, though she didn't know why. There was also a group of folks that looked sort of like how she’d imagine beastmen might look, though they kept to themselves and looked kind of private. She vaguely recalled them from the introduction to the races, but she couldn't remember their name. Something like Youka or something.

There were a group of kids running around playing a game with something that looked like a bolt-action crossbow that fired beanbags, and some people setting up small work tables that slid out of the side of wagons and began tinkering with devices she couldn't identify. Other were simply talking or laying about and napping in small groups.

So the Nagaens girl sort of stood out of the way, looking around for something to do until she spotted a couple of older cat-folk that looked like they were laying out stuff to prepare for dinner, like a collapsible table and some knives and some vegetables she couldn't identify.

Krymnt hated standing around at parties, events or other social gatherings. In the end, she would always either start helping out with getting things together, getting drinks for others or simply leave until everyone else had settled into their little niche. She was perfectly able to enter a conversation, talk for a bit, and otherwise mingle. She just didn't like to do it. It might have caused her issues in real life, but maybe she could help out here while she leeched off the life that Krymnt had built up for herself.

The group preparing the dinner goods was more than happy to let her help out again, but that she didn't have to do it every night. Apparently Krymnt had paid for the right to join the caravan during their journey, which covered food costs. Apparently Krymnt helped out with dinner regularly, a fact that she didn't argue, since she had to take their word for it.

They ended up giving her the relatively easy task of washing and scrubbing off the vegetables with a bottle that was enchanted to provide endless water, albeit at a slow pace. She didn't say much, just listened to the group, a mixture of men and women, young and old, talk about the journey, and how happy they were getting close to the end of the trip.

Krymnt spent the next hour or so, as the sun faded out of sight, washing vegetables and other important but mundane tasks. Dinner was large slices off the dinosaur, which had been put on a giant spit and roasted over the fire made of magical coal, or whatever it was. She wasn't going to ask and look ignorant or out of place.

Krymnt didn't eat last, but she certainly stayed out of the way while most people got their food, which smelled pretty much amazing. She instead made use of the makeshift facilities, another collapsible contraption with curtains that would give the user some privacy in the privy. She made use of it, finding out that her body had no trouble using the bathroom, even if her mind struggled with the idea for a moment. Her tail was a bit long to fit all the way into the bathroom stall, which had been placed well out of the way of the common areas and fire pit.

Shaking her head further at the ridiculous realism programmed into the game- mostly because incredulous was better than existential worry- Krymnt entered near the end of the line. She was going to grab some of the vegetables, which had been steamed in some contraption, but a little pop-up from the game warned her that Nagaens are almost exclusively carnivores. It said she could eat vegetables, but she would have to do so at her own risk.

She scoffed and got rid of the warning with a swipe, glancing at the Kassilik around to see if any of them saw it. Fortunately, no one was giving her any strange looks.

Still, she decided to forgo the botanical foods, and simply get a couple servings of the dinosaur, for which she couldn't help feel her mouth watering a bit. She started away with her food, looking for somewhere slightly secluded to eat when she saw Slenderwick motioning to her from a little ways away from the fire. He was there with Winstrum and two female Kassilik she assumed were Combust and Miltia.

If she had to guess, she would say that the one with a pair of bladed throwing discs and dressed in a strange fantasy-version of a military vest with pockets everywhere was Miltia, a tall and lean woman who looked older than the others, and with orangeish-tan fur and stripes rather than spots.

Combust was about the same size and shape as Winstrum, but clearly female and with tan fur. Her spots would come and go in bursts, some areas almost bereft, other cluttered to almost black. Both of them were staring at her with interest, along with Slenderwick. Winstrum looked more concerned than curious, but she figured that he was mostly being polite and was probably just as interested.

With the attention on her, she smiled, awkward as always, and said, “Hi all. Mind if I join you?” It was a stupid question, but she felt obligated to ask anyway.

Slenderwick scoffed, “Don’t be stupid, of course. I waved you over. You feeling any better?”

Krymnt clenched her jaw a little in reaction. She knew it was a stupid comment, but it still burned her ego to have it pointed out so obviously, for being polite. She shrugged, “More or less. Not feeling so terrible, anyway. Um.” She looked to the two ladies, who were sitting next to each other, plates and earthenware in hand.

The tiger woman who was decked out in military gear smiled a lazy, confident smile. She looked relaxed and probably a little tired, “Miltia. A pleasure to meet you again.” She didn't offer her hand, so Krymnt didn't either, not sure of the customs.

“Nice to meet you again too, ha.” She tried to give a little laugh to keep the awkward down, but the results, she felt, were mixed. “The catch looks pretty amazing, you did a great job.” Krymnt motioned back to the fire-pit with the carved up dinosaur still nearby, using the end of her green tail.

The Nagaens girl found that it was hard to look directly at the fire. It hurt her eyes, not so much with pain but with color and brightness. She was beginning to suspect that Nagaens didn’t see quite the same spectrum of light as others did, since she could pretty clearly still make out the entire clearing, even with just the flickering light of the bonfire and a couple lanterns that the Kassilik put up around the perimeter, that emitted a soft green light.

Miltia waved it off, “Naw, it was easy. Cravin has this net launcher that she just made. It didn't really take the beast down, but the saurian got tangled up all the same. Just a matter of bringing it back, mostly.”

It was here that Krymnt found out that Nagaens were not quite good at sitting down at the same height as a bipedal creature. Her tail was, by nature a lot wider than thighs of most walking creatues, and she had to figure out where to put the rest of her tail if she wasn’t going to sit on it. She finally settled on a slightly leaning pose, with her tail stacked twice tall around her body for support. She was still about a head taller than everyone else, but it would have to do.

Krymnt nodded to Combust who smiled politely, and said in a small quiet voice, “Combust. Sorry you are having issues. Our healer is looking after a couple fighters, but he should be by in a bit to check you out.”

Krymnt thanked her, “I appreciate it but I don’t think they will be able to do anything… Thank you for the concern.”

The smiled politely at each other and Krymnt felt an instant, well, not kinship with Combust, but perhaps an affinity? She certainly felt that the pair of them were relatively introverted and less social most of the time.

The four of them continued their conversation while eating, mostly talking about something that Combust was cooking up, she was some sort of alchemist. Krymnt was thankful, as she didn’t really want to have to talk all evening. She looked at the plate and tried to decide how to eat.

She didn't have any blunt teeth, and she knew she was a carnivore now. Maybe she just swallowed things whole? The idea seemed dubious at best, and it would be terribly not-funny if she choked to death while eating, as the Kassilik stared on, dumbfounded at her idiocy.

So she cut all her food up into little bites and began to shove a piece at a time into her mouth, sucking on it to draw out the rich, almost greasy flavor spiced with something she didn't recognize. She didn't bother trying to chew it, it was small enough that she thought she could swallow without issue and she did just fine without choking.

Her mind wandered a bit, wondering if higher level characters could swallow larger pieces of food without choking to death, like how as their Vitality went up, they could choke down bigger food longer than most low level characters. Still, she figured that there had to be a limit because even a top level character couldn't choke down a watermelon. The idea that there was some number, a tangible, countable number tied to her general health, constitution and physical endurance was weird. She wondered whether the game had programmed in racial bonuses to swallowing size. Did they separate eating contests here based on race?

Krymnt’s mind wandered to weird places when she wasn't freaking out about existential crises, the dysphoria of the lack of body dysphoria in a Naga body, or social anxiety.

Removed from the warmth of the day and the fire-pit, Krymnt could feel her body become a little more lethargic in the cool night air. She could tell she was going to sleep soon, which was an odd concept in and of itself. She started playing Magience to avoid the time wasted while sleeping, and now she was feeling tired enough to sleep in the game itself.

She wondered if there was some sort of mind-magic that would let people in the world of Magience dream that they were in some Kassilik-imagined techno-world game, but decided that was pretty unlikely. Probably.

During dinner, an older, smaller looking Kassilik with little streaks of grey through his tawny hair came by to check over Krymnt. He gave her the once over, saying that he was not an expert in Nagaens biology, but all his spells said she was perfectly healthy, if a little overstressed. She kept her laughter to a single guff, but thanked him for his time.

Krymnt tried to help wash off her own and the other’s plates, but the people who were assigned the duty wouldn't let her help. Apparently you can only help before dinner or after dinner, but not both.

At this point it was pretty well dark, and there were several tents set out, but most of the Kassilik slept under the open sky, it was a nice night, clear and bright with two moons nearly full.

The stars were bright and twinkling like Krymnt had only seen in movies, and it was even possible to see the sweep of colors created by the galaxy they were in, like the Milky Way but a little brighter and wider, from the pictures she'd seen in the real world.

She settled into a loose coil, using the narrow end as a pillow. Cool from the earth and the night breeze, she was feeling as lethargic as the cat folk around her seemed.

Unfortunately, this was mostly a red herring from her body, or perhaps her mind was simply rebelling against an easy out from thinking. She slept fitfully, not really able to become comfortable or relaxed. Each time she'd sink into sleep, her body would jerk awake, giving her scant twenty minute bursts of sleep before coming awake completely, only to take another ten minutes to fall asleep.

It was during one of these transition moments, just before falling asleep but still awake and thinking, that Krymnt heard the first scream.

Bolting awake immediately, she sat up and looked around for the scream, before a chorus of screams told her to look towards the back end of the caravan, away from the fire.

Across the way, there were the shadows of catfolk fighting or fleeing what looked like a rippling wave against the harsh glare of the fire pit.

Krymnt was already moving towards the calamity, drawing her hook spear from its straps on her tail saddlebag, when the earth, not twenty feet away, burst open and creatures spilled forth from the earth.

From the hole streamed a swath of huge furry looking beetles, each easily the size of a small dog, or large rat. They weren't fast, but they were so numerous she barely knew where to start, as she began rushing over to stem the tide of the insects from the hole.

Her staff swept over a group of them, her noticeably increased strength crushing chitin, or bone or whatever these thing had, in quick order. The insects didn't seem too upset or concerned that she was crushing them, so she didn't hesitate to continue, until the earth seemed to bulge for a moment with some underground force.

If these smaller digger bugs things were the size of small dogs, then this new one was a lot the size of a giant dog, squat and close to the ground. And these ones were not built for digging.

These wooly bugs clearly had some armor plating, vaguely resembling a crab, and their front ends seemed to be composed of four small but sharp hatchet shaped appendages. These bugs were unquestionably built for killing.

Immediately, the larger insect headed for a group of Kassilik that had been sleeping nearby, who were only now just waking up in alarm.

Krymnt barked a curse and sprang forward onto the killer insect before it could get too far. She began wrapping her tail around the thing instinctively, grasping it with every inch of coil she could spare, before giving a violent wrench of muscle.

She couldn't get too distracted by the sound and feel of crunching bug, as another hachet-bug crawled its way out of the hole, trying to go around Krymnt towards a younger cat woman that had run screaming from the far side of the clearing, without realizing there was danger here too, then tripped on the flood of smaller digger bugs that had just burst from Krymnt’s hole.

The hunter-bug was nearly on top of the woman, who screamed again, when Krymnt realized why the spear had a hook end, rather than a simple blade

Still disengaging herself from the first hatchet-bug, which may have been still alive but it was certainly crippled to some degree, she flashed out with her hook. The biting point of her hook pierced the bug, which was nearly on the woman. Krymnt dragged it back with a harsh tug- the bug was surprisingly light- towards her as her tail unwrapped from the first hunter-bug. She wrenched her hook free as it got close enough for her tail to grab.

It tried to turn it's head towards her, and she bashed it with the blunt side of her spearhook. It seemed stunned long enough for her tail to get its death-grip.

Again, she turned to look towards the hole and saw there were already two more of the hachet-bugs, one still half out in the hole, but both streaming towards her. They seemed almost cautious and she took the moment to finish crushing the one between her coils while the closer hatchet-bug gave a quick lunge towards her. She bashed it aside with the wooden end of the spear, only to find out these bugs were not bound to the earth.

The second bug, from almost ten feet away, leapt into the air using small, almost vestigial, wings to propel it forward. The thing’s hatchet-limbs got a couple solid swings at her left shoulder and she felt that buzzing sensation at her shoulder, much stronger and sharper than when she bit her knuckle. She twisted out of the way to let the thing land on the ground nearby. She hooked it by the wing-case and yanked it hard towards its buddy she had just whacked, out towards the outside of the oval and away from people.

The two collided with a thud and she could see another pair of the hatchet-bugs coming out of the hole, ignoring her and skittering towards the fire-pit. She hissed and raced towards them without checking to see if the two behind her were still active. With a quick swipe, she hit both of the hunters on the back, not hard enough to really damage them, but to get their attention.

Krymnt had played enough MMOs to know that most monsters would change their target from a passive enemy to one that was attacking them directly.

Her ploy worked, and they turned, scuttling a little like the crabs they resembled, to face her, their hatchet limbs going up and down in a fervor. She clashed with the pair of them, using the staff to keep them at bay long enough to swing at an odd angle, hitting one of the deceptively light bugs and launching it back towards the hole. The other took the opportunity to slice at her belly, and the pinging grew much, much worse, deeper and more dangerous in tone.

She smashed its front down with the base of her staff and crawled on top of it while its hatchet limbs were out of place. A sharp buzz told her that she was still taking damage, discovering that one of the pair she had fought earlier was back, cutting at her tail. A careful low flick of her tail and she knocked its feet out from under it, giving her a moment again to spin to face the remaining three. The one she was resting on seemed unable to lift her off the ground, and it chittered angrily, the first sound she had heard any of the bug things make. She winced as the end of her tail was sliced along the length by the bug she had hooked and thrown earlier, caught in her haste to pull her tail away. The buzzing was getting really bad, it nearly distracted her beyond focus.

Gambling on the idea that the one she hooked couldn’t fly-leap again with its wound, she stabbed with the hook on the uninjured bug, while the third got its feet back underneath itself. The wounded one tried to jump, but she gambled right, and it only made it a few feet, right within arm’s reach.

She let go of the spear, still caught in the shell of the fifth or six bug, she couldn't tell which, to smash her fist down onto the bug, targeting the wound in its wing-case. Her hand broke through its outer shell, which seemed more like cartilage than chitin or bone. Her fist hurt from the action but she quickly released her clenched fist to pull her hand free. The one with the hook stuck in it shook violently then started retreating backwards, as if really hurt and disoriented, taking her weapon with it. 

Her coils had already crushed the one hatchet-bug beneath her, but she still had one last bug, the one she’d knocked off its feet and it was approaching her with its hatchet limbs silently hewing air.

Without a weapon, she clenched her fists again, trying to decide if she ought to chase after the confused hunter-bug with her hook still in it, or face this one down directly. She was about to begin chasing after her weapon, only a scant eight or so feet away, when the bug that was stalking her burst into ribbons of blue sparking flame.

Wildly, Krymnt looked around to find out what happened, only to see that the magically flaming blue eyes of Combust were staring at her from her perch atop of the nearest wagon. Her hands cupped around another sparking blue flame and her eyes literally glowing with the same streak of shimmering blue color.

Krymnt gave her a thankful nod but didn't waste time as she chased down her hookspear. In its haste to get away, the hatchet-bug had impaled the hook deeper as it dragged along the ground. Without mercy, she grabbed the haft of the weapon and raised it. When she smashed the bug down on the ground, it split open, the halves not even twitching in a show of a death throe.

Krymnt turned around the face the next wave of monsters, but she found that the tide had turned abruptly against the bugs. There were cats now on top of every wagon, some wielding familiar looking repeating crossbows, though these were using real bolts. Others had different ranged weapons like traditional bows or javelins and some, like Combust, were simply throwing spells at the insects.

Only a few fighters remained on the ground like Krymnt, and most of them were backed up by others, defending the people who couldn't get away from the fight within the oval. Miltia was stalking around the largest group of people near the fire, seeking any new targets, with what looked like more than two dozen hatchet-bug bodies littering the ground around her.

There was only one or two hatchet-bug that she could still see moving, and they got taken out as she watched, some by multiple shooters. The holes were streaming less and less furry insects and there were a group of two or three fast runners going to each hole and dropping a small stick with a fuse into the gaping hole in the earth and running away as the small explosive collapsed the tunnels in a plume of dust, creating deep bass notes that Krymnt could feel through her tail more than she could hear. One of the runners came by her hole and tossed one of the explosives into the hole quickly with the same effect.

That same grey-streaked Kassilik in robes came to her, as Krymnt twisted around in alert, making sure there were no more bugs attacking people. He looked her over, concerned and began chanting, his arms raised in glowing white. She stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, her voice coming out in a harsh rasp between panting breath, “Go help someone else! I will live.”

He started to argue and she picked him up with one hand by the neck of his robes- he was a small fellow- and she said louder in a fearsome hiss, “I won’t die! Go save someone else!” before putting him down gently.

He got the hint and fled towards the group of people near the fire pit, one of whom appeared to be keening and holding their leg.

Krymnt supposed she might have been a little harsh, but even with the adrenaline and the almost literally painful buzzing everywhere, she wasn't going to let them waste their healing on her. She wouldn't die permanently, even if she died on the spot, which was one of the obvious benefits to being a Player, and not an NPC.

But that buzzing was getting worse, and the adrenaline, she wondered if it affected only her game self or her real self too, was wearing off, making the buzz become unbearable. She muttered, “System Menu.”

In most games, you could tell what your health was at without opening a menu, but Magience was anything but most games and there was no Heads-Up Display.

In the menu she could see she barely had less than a tenth of her health left, and seemed to be losing more health every second. When she glanced at her “Condition” the reason became clear, as listed underneath were several conditions, but one that stood out was a term called, “Hemorrhaging,” in bold red letters.

She blinked and closed the menu to look herself over. In doing so, she found the obvious sources of issue. Just past where her legs would be on a humanoid, she had several long gashes that were oozing blood, just below the upper strap for her tail-pack. The blood was not not gushing or anything, but it was fast enough for her to recognize why she might die due to wounds. Even as she had her eyes on the blood, she started to feel woozy, an uncomfortably realistic sensation.

Clenching her jaw, she began the process to bind the wound, starting with the first bandage she had, the long scarf tied around her chest. She spun it around and undid the tight bow, her breath coming fast and uneven for a completely different reason than combat fatigue, probably the onset of acute bloodloss. Not an iota of time was wasted on worrying about her exposed body.

The scarf wrapped around her bleeding abdomen, just to stem the tide of the blue-red blood. She took off her backpack to look for more, finding a couple more chest-covering scarves, thankfully at the top of her bag and easily unfolded.

She used the bright orange-yellow one, then a deep blue to tie off at her waist, cinched tightly, but not too tight, allowing the wound breath a little and to prevent cutting off her circulation. She wouldn't lie, she was no medic, she was mostly working off of common sense and what she'd seen and read in the real world . She swallowed as the buzzing noise faded to a slightly less insistent tone. She checked the rest of her tail and found another smaller gash on her tail near the end, using one last scarf to cover that cut as well.

She opened the menu again and saw that her health wasn't dropping any further and sagged a little, mostly in relief, some due to exhaustion. She still had “Battle Fatigue”, “Blood Loss”, and “Heavily Injured”, under her conditions box, but none of them were bolded or otherwise heavily emphasized, so she figured she was safe for now. She closed the window and looked around.

The digger bugs seem to have vanished, though there were plenty dead ones scattered here and there. None of the hatchet-bugs were moving and most everyone looked mobile and healthy, though everyone was on high alert in the dark night.

Casually, her hand dipped into her open backpack one last time and she pulled out a one of her two remaining scarves, a silver one that contrasted her scales nicely, if she were worried about that sort of thing right then. She began to wrap the scarf carefully around her small breasts, careful of the gashes she nearly forgot on her arm. Thankfully, they weren't bleeding too badly, or she wouldn't have any spare clothing for tomorrow.

It wasn't that she was shy, apparently her body was either not used to being embarrassed about being exposed, or maybe Nagaens didn’t blush. But there were kids around, so it seemed the proper thing after all, to stay dressed.

She tied off the scarf in another bow, spinning it around so the bow was at her back again. With that, she sort of sagged to the side, careful not to stress or strain the jagged cuts at her stomach. She leaned over carefully to pick up her spearhook- she couldn’t remember when she dropped it, maybe after she saw that caravan and people were pretty much safe, maybe when she threatened that healer- but she picked it up again and gripped it with both hands, leaning on it heavily to stay upright and keep stress off her wounds.

Her eyes dipped closed for a moment and when she opened them, someone was muttering near her waist, “-most there. I’m surprised you can stay upright.”

Her eyes shot open wide and she nearly reared back, only to see it was the same healer in robes that she saw earlier. His voice picked up, “Steady! I almost got this closed properly. Damn, Krim-nit, you have to be more careful.”

She took a breath, holding still, but still asking, “Is everyone else okay? Did anyone die?”

The man, whom she didn't have a name for, looked up at her and said, “No, thank the deities. We must have stopped right on top of a dune-hiver nest, but luckily, the queen must have been young and low level, or else we would have seen twice as many threshers, and maybe a sweeper or two.”

She guessed that he was talking about the bug-things, but she asked, “‘Low level’?”

He raised an eyebrow as he stood up, asking, “Not much Sleeper-slang down south? They always refer to monsters or each other as high or low or same “level”. Not sure why they are so fixated on putting things on imaginary pedestals, but low level monsters are usually easier to kill. He put a hand on her shoulder, which must have been healed while she was still blacked out, “You saved at least a couple people tonight. I won’t be the last to say it, but thanks, Krim-nit.”

She smiled faintly, too polite to correct his pronunciation. “No problem. Glad to help. I’m good. Make sure everyone else is okay?”

He laughed, a deep sound from his small frame, “Don’t have to tell me twice. I've been “naga-handled” enough tonight.” He stuck his tongue out at her obvious chagrin and waved off her apology before she could start, “Don’t worry. No ill feelings and don’t worry. The dune-hiver nest is probably severely depleted and they won’t attack again tonight.”

He patted her shoulder again and wandered off, looking a little tired himself, but unconcerned in the cool night air. Krymnt watched him wander off, before looking around for something to do.

She saw a few people cleaning up the corpses of insects and putting them aside in piles. She decided to join them, moving slowly on her still tender abdomen. It was slow, mindless, and easy work, just about the pace she was willing to go right then.

There was no way she would sleep anymore tonight anyway.


	3. Bug Reporting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all. I wanted to give a quick caveat to my writing here. Pretty much everything here is not canon. I don't know what I am doing and I am making up places and names and cultures as I go. I doubt that the actual Magience plot will ever intersect with what I am doing here, so it shouldn't cause any real hardship. But I just wanted to make sure I made it clear. Some things I have gleaned about the setting from the Omnia books, but a lot of it is throwaway details I have made up, like Crescent Valley itself. 
> 
> Feel free to ask or comment, I always appreciate it. Thanks for reading!

Krymnt had no idea why they were gathering the bodies of the insects so delicately, but the gatherers seemed to not want to cause any more damage to the furry insects. Or she didn't understand until she saw that several of people, including three or four of the beast-folk, had pulled out curved knives and began working at the dead carcases.

It was surprisingly gruesome work, removing the fur, collecting the hatchet limbs and gutting part of the insect for some purpose she couldn't fathom. Krymnt was by no means squeamish but she had to look away, adding her bugs to the stack without watching, sliding away to gather another couple of the corpses resting under one of the lamp poles.

Thankfully the insects were not particularly pungent, mostly smelling a little like dank moldy basement with old engine grease. It was by no means pleasant, but it wasn't hard to ignore, either. It was easier if she didn't breath through her mouth.

True the to the priest’s words, several people thanked her for jumping in to help during the fight, even as she was covered in bug muck and hauling corpses. She brushed off the compliments gracelessly but consistently. She really had no reason to be thanked. She didn't know where she would respawn if she died, but it wasn't like she was going to die. She literally had nothing to risk, not even some measly experience points. She wondered if she leveled up at all during the fight, but she wasn't going to look at the menu again while others were watching her.

She was still exhausted too, from the lack of sleep and her harrowing first battle. Her body still pinged that she was wounded each time she bent down to pick up a few more insects. It was long work, cleaning up all the bodies, but there were far more people helping clean up the battle than there were people fighting in it. Not long after she started, the grateful people who looked unsullied by the battle were telling her to go rest and relax. She resisted at first, but the end of her tail and her fingers were trembling as the adrenaline left her body completely.

She was suddenly cold and very tired as a young girl took the two partially crushed digger-bugs from her hands.

Krymnt found a spot nearer the fire, letting the warmth from it spread through her body and fight back the cold had invaded her as quickly as the bugs left. The fire put off a good heat, though the flames weren't licking quite as high as before. She idly watched them flicker and wondered if they had even added any more fuel to the flames since they started it. It didn't look like it, which meant that it was definitely some sort of magic, or a material not found in the real world. She wondered if it was some sort of enchantment, or an alchemical process, or something even stranger. Even so, she thanked the creators without question. The heat felt good on her scales, and her spirit lifted even if the energy didn't really return to her limbs.

In fact, she was so relaxed that she hadn't even realized she’d fallen asleep until the sun hit her eyelids.

She blinked a couple times, looking away from the sun. The bright sun had risen above the line of covered wagons to the east, marking it as mid-morning at the very least. She found herself slumped over to the side, coiled loosely and lazily, taking up quite a bit of space.

A little muzzy-headed, she pulled herself upright, looking around with confusion and a little concern. Surely the caravan should have left by now?

Krymnt found she wasn't abandoned, for indeed it looked like many of the cat folk were up and moving, only just preparing to head out for the day. Rubbing her eyes and her head a little, trying to restart her brain, she noted that they looked as tired as she felt. A voice spoke up from closer than she expected, “Hey,” and her tail twitched and her eyes darted open.

Standing nearby was Miltia, the tiger-like Kasillik decked out for war. She was easily more than six and a half feet tall, head and shoulders above most of the other cheetah-like Kassilik that made up most of the troupe. Seeing the tiger-like woman up close and standing, Krymnt realized that the woman was built wider than the Nagaens herself, which was extremely wide for the slender Kassilik. Miltia was a close contender for the biggest person Krymnt had ever seen, in-game or in real life.

Miltia was smiling slyly, standing with one leg bent and arms crossed. All at once, Krymnt wondered if she did something wrong or cute, and wasn’t sure if the cat woman was laughing at her or amused by her. Either option had very distinct implications, and Krymnt couldn't figure out which it was.

She avoided the question altogether by ignoring it, replying, “Hi. Sorry, I overslept. Do I need to help anywhere?”

The sort-of-tan-colored tiger lady shook her head and laughed, “No, poor girl, of course not. You are always trying to help. I swear, you’ve done more work than most of these lay-abouts here.” She glanced around the caravan, which seemed to be attempting to organize back into a line. Miltia shook her head at a couple of catfolk bickering about who’s wagon went first, “No, Krymnt, I wanted to ask if you were okay. You’d stood your ground against a host of those things, and last time we talked about it, you said you only had basic combat training.”

Krymnt shrugged, uncoiling a little and setting herself nearly the same height as the tigress, though a little shorter, an instinct that she didn't know the source of.

If Krymnt had to guess, she would have supposed out of respect, some deep-seated Nagaens tradition or habit to stand “lower” than someone of higher rank. Of course, she was just guessing, as she was some ignorant player that was roaming about the planet without any foreknowledge.

Krymnt finally responded as the woman waited for her to say something, “I was nothing compared to you in that fight. It was luck mostly.”

She grunted, a deep noise in her chest, something between a growl and a laugh, “Damn good luck, or better instincts. You've changed, Krymnt,” the snake girl winced uncomfortably at this, but the woman continued, “This was your first solo mission as an official courier, right? You started out this month long trek, as we wandered to and fro, timid as a babbit. You are still a bit shy,” she grinned, a show of sharp teeth and good humor, “but you've shown yourself to have a good heart, and that means more than any amount of bluster, well- or ill-backed.”

She stepped closer- Krymnt sensed it was more for intimacy than intimidation- and said quietly, “You saved my sister last night, and that means a lot to me. I couldn't be there fast enough.”

Krymnt’s confusion must have shown on her face, as she tried to remember who could have been the tiger’s sister, coming up with a blank.

The larger woman laughed and patted her on the back, “You are adorable. That girl who tripped next to you when the dune-hivers first appeared? She’s my sister. Dad’s a Tigri like me, but a sorcerer. He's doing a gig so he's not with us right now, probably just a couple days behind.”

The woman smiled, this one seemed a little more painful, “It’s a long story... but I’d be devastated if I lost her.” She took a step back, sighing and watching the caravan get straightened out, “You know, there are a lot of people who are wary around Sleepers, or who think they are fascinating. Personally,” she glanced back at Krymnt, who couldn't help but hang her head some, “I don’t care. You did good, and I appreciate that.”

Krymnt opened her mouth, caught between hanging her head even further and looking up at the woman, so she did neither, staring at the caravan, “I didn't do anything. Don’t thank me.”

Krymnt’s teeth danced along the edges of her cheek. Not biting down hard enough to cause damage, but she could feel that almost silent warning sensation that she was nearly hurting herself. She almost logged out then and there, again, for the second time in a day, but she held back, not wanting to cause any alarm.

Miltia patted her on the back again, careful with her claws, “Sorry Krymnt, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I need to get back to my lovers, but I will talk to some people in Crescent Valley when we get there. I know a few guilds and I think you’d make a top-notch fighter, if you have instincts like last night. You stay strong, girl, you have nothing to be ashamed about. Thanks again.” With another couple careful, but friendly, pats, Miltia jogged off towards her husband and friend’s trio of wagons.

Krymnt was only slightly interested in how their marriage worked out, but it really wasn't her business and her mind wasn't interested in speculating too much. It wasn't her business, which was fine by her.

Before they packed up the facilities, she quickly took the time to use them again. In the privacy of the curtained off room, she opened the menu quick enough to see if she had any messages- she didn't- then exited out again quickly, as if she had something to hide.

It took some doing, but she took off her backpack to sort through it really quick. She took off her silver top and replaced it with the last clean scarf, a royal purple, she had in her pack. She took a breath and slid out of the room with her bag and silver scarf still in hand, moving towards the washing area nearby. Until she thought about it, she hadn't realized just how grimy she had become during the fight.

She didn’t have time for a deep wash like she wanted, but the washing area, fueled by another slow-flowing endless bottle of water, would do enough to remove the worst of it.

Krymnt undid the four other scarves she had used to staunch her wounds, each of them with varying degrees of filth and dried blood on them. The wounds were mostly closed, but the ones low on her belly looked smoother and shinier than her tail or shoulder, and when she rubbed the tender flesh, that warning ping started again. She let it be and began running water over the wraps, trying to get the worst of the blood out of the fabric, hoping the bug ichor or her own blood wouldn't stain.

She probably ought to get some armor or something, if she were going to keep playing this game, but she didn't really want to get involved in delving into dungeons when she really hoped that a game moderator would get in contact with her soon, so that Krymnt could quit the game and not feel like she took some NPCs life.

Yeah, she was still angsting about that, even though it became more comfortable remaining the Nagaens girl as she remained in the game. Physical comfort did not equate to mental comfort and she wasn't going to quit the game until either morning or when she got in contact with a game moderator, preferably the later.

While it wasn't ideal, she got the worst of the mess out of her clothing and from her body with a quick scrub. She set the wet scarves aside on a nearby cluster of flat rocks to dry for a moment. The caravan looked like it was finally getting in order, and there were a couple Kassilik coming by to take down the curtained bathrooms, which had suddenly developed a small line. With her backpack off and her hands free, she looked through the bag to find an assortment of items, like a hairbrush, which she didn't bother with, some small jewelry, same action, and a tightly wrapped bundle that felt like more clothing, though she didn’t want to unpack it yet.

On her tail bag, she found a waterskin, a pouch with a small bag of coins that she didn’t bother to count right then, and a bunch of amenities, like some documents, blank paper, an inkwell and quill. There were a bunch of other stuff, small tools and vials and a bottle or two that she couldn't identify at first glance and that she didn't want to get into right then.

She repacked everything but the water-bag and clothing, squeezing out her soaked clothing as much as she could, before tying them into a bundle, using the silver scarf as a makeshift bag for the sodden clothes. She tied the bundle of clothes to the hook on her staff, which she decided to carry for now, so the wet bundle could still get some air, without soaking the goods in her backpack.

Krymnt emptied her waterskin, having realized how thirsty she was all of a sudden. She got in line and refilled the bag from the never ending faucet, before wandering back to the caravan proper, staying out of the way as she held her spear, hook tilted up, so her clothing wouldn’t drag on the ground.

If she were going to spend time learning magic, the first ones on her list were going to be cleaning spells. She’d write down what spells she learned and how to use them in a journal or something so that when Krymnt got her life back, she wouldn't lose the skill.

She shook her head. Krymnt wasn't going to remain in this body for long, if she could help it. Why would she try to prepare for the future? It would be stupidly wrong to commit to anything that she would leave the real Krymnt to manage herself.

While Krymnt privately berated herself, the caravan had finally started moving She traveled alongside one of the carts, idly watching the massive stone plinths throughout the savannah pass by and trying to remain unobtrusive.

People did come up to thank her, true to that healer’s word. She didn’t know what to say, really, other than it wasn't a big deal and that she was happy to help. The conversations didn't last long, but one particularly awkward conversation asked where she got her hooked spear and she couldn’t answer. Vaguely, she said she got it as a gift from a friend.

The day passed relatively quickly, as more and more people were seen going the other direction as her caravan, other merchants or travelers. By the time noon hit, settlements were getting more common, mostly farms and small collections of buildings to house workers, as well as the occasional inn. In the distance, ahead of the caravan, the ground rose gently, until reaching a flattened mesa section, home to a walled town, presumably Crescent Valley. As the caravan slowly went up the incline, the earth became more rocky and less vegetated. The gravel of the road had for a while now turned into solid packed earth, for which Krymnt was grateful. The bottom of her tail didn’t have a whole lot of sensation where she slithered along, but sharp rocks were still sharp and would cause her head to ping occasionally.

There were actually buildings outside the city wall, but they seemed to serve specific functions that wouldn't otherwise be very useful or convenient inside the town, like stables, camp/fairgrounds, and more. Krymnt thought she saw a couple butcheries and tanneries further from the main road, and at least one graveyard in the distance, fenced-off and mournful-looking.

Krymnt stared at the graveyard, wondering if it was a real graveyard, or one used for players doing quests and fighting skeletons or something stupid. She wondered if it was both.

She sighed and kept her thoughts to herself as she found herself following the caravan off the main road and into a large flat campgrounds area, cleared of weeds and stomped flat. There were a few other wagons in the area, but they were larger and seemed to be disassociated from one another. They were still about ten minutes from town by walking, but the spot was probably meant for caravans like this to gather at.

Still, she didn't understand why they couldn’t just enter the city, as is. Krymnt wanted to ask someone, but she already was done interacting with people for the day, after spending all morning fending off grateful but over friendly strangers, she was ready to sit down and relax for a few minutes at least. Its been almost full day now, in game. Krymnt had been sleeping for a nary an hour in the real world. The idea boggled her. She had spent all this morning waiting patiently for the response from a GM and got nothing. She wondered if they were all just busy, or what was happening.

Of course, if they had to sign out of the game in order to work on her request, it might take days, weeks, in game for them to give her a reply. It was night time in Romerus City, the real world, and they might not get back to her until the next day, real-time, or for three weeks, game time.

Krymnt wondered if she would forgive someone who stole three whole weeks of her life, in the real world. Of course, the game was a game. Krymnt wasn't real-real. She was fictional-real. Like all these Kasillik who were nice to her, even if she couldn't remember their names. Or the bird woman who glared at Krymnt every time they met eyes. Krymnt wondered if she did something to the woman in the past. Krymnt wouldn't know unless she asked, and she didn't want to further any subplots that Krymnt herself would have to deal with when she got her fictional-real mind-body personality back.

Kyrmnt was getting as headache, and was about to spend the next hour, in game, sorting out her actual thoughts on herself, the real self and fictional self, all the dysphoria, the dysphoria caused by the lack of dysphoria and the concern that she might have some major issues if she was so quickly attached to the personalities and lives in a game that she might have stolen a single life from some poor Nagaens girl. This might take longer than an hour.

She had gotten a good solid three minutes into her sorting, which is to say, nearly nowhere, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. As flinch-slithery in the game as she was jumpy in the real world, Krymnt ducked away from the touch. She wasn't afraid of being touched so much as she had simply gotten so lost in thought that she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings.

Krymnt looked at the person who touched her and blinked, “Combust? Everything okay?”

She nodded, looking apologetic, “Sorry. Caravan is stopped. It will be maybe tonight, probably tomorrow that we can get wagons into town, on entry schedule. Your package, you want us to hold onto it until you know where it goes?” Combust had an odd, almost stilted way of speaking. Krymnt wondered if she wasn't a native speaker of English, or if there was some other story. She didn't know and she didn't want to pry.

“Yeah, that would be…” Krymnt paused, “What do you mean, my package? I thought I had everything.”

Combust shook her head, “Two crates. They were in the wagon. You might need ask Nagaens community in Crescent Valley first? They maybe help. Sorry I do not know.” She still spoke with that soft, unaccented tone, though her inflection was clearly sympathetic.

Krymnt nodded slowly, understanding, but dreading it. Now she would have to try to integrate herself into some community that may or may not know her, and she would have to tell more people. She put her hand into her mouth, stressed but trying not to add to the large number of needlepoint scars onto Krymnt’s arm.

Combust seemed content to give her the time she needed. Finally, after a few moments feeling unjudged and focused, Krymnt said, “Yeah… Um, can I ask you to keep the crates until I figure out where they need to go? I sort of need to get my bearings and figure out some things. Is that possible? If not, it still might take me a couple hours…”

The snake girl’s eyes stared at the town, trying to figure out where other Nagaens would congregate and wished she had access to her own memories but then that would be even more confusing and conflicting.

Combust shook her head, “It is fine. We will take several trips in town over many days, back and forth. Crescent Valley laws only let so many wagons and foreign vehicles in at same time. Local tradition.” Her voice went quieter still, as if she were speaking a secret. “Also, I think they use it to regulate trade economy and make tax levies easy to administer. Please do not tell anyone in authority or Slenderwick I say that though. He does not like insulting local traditions and customs.”

Krymnt smiled and nodded in agreement, and wondered if any of the Sleepers dedicated themselves to becoming in-game historians or economists. “Alright. Um, then I might go into town and try to figure out some stuff. Will you guys be out here if I come back later? Maybe in the morning?”

Combust nodded, “Yes. Someone will be with wagons here at all times, maybe me, maybe Miltia, maybe Winstrum. No worry.”

Krymnt nodded and thanked the quiet woman, “I really appreciate it. I will bring breakfast if I don’t make it back before then.”

She shook her head, “No, you do not need to do that. You have been good to us. Good to all our group. Thank you for saving people. You do not deserve to have extra trouble on top of your trouble now. Do not worry and take time to find self. We will be here for one complete month at least.”

Krymnt nodded and opened her mouth to reply, but Combust had already started to walk away. She closed her mouth and clenched her fists a moment, not sure how to deal with the complete kindness of these people who were supposed to be NPCs.

She sighed instead and turned from the relative discomfort of half-familiar people for the discomfort of meeting people who were completely unfamiliar. Krymnt had taken her scarves off of the hook a while ago and put them into her backpack, mildly damp but otherwise not likely to sully the remaining contents of their packs. Slinking her way back to the main road, she started her way to the town, looking around at the ground traffic coming to and from the town.

Most of them seemed to be a diverse mixture of people. There were a number of the human looking folk with tiny wings sprouting from their back, the Aethen. These folk looked nearly as graceful as the Elves she saw with the caravan, though they were taller, almost seven feet tall, with antlers. There were more elves too, but they seemed less common than the Aethen. Krymnt wondered if there were biome preferences for different races, or something.

By far the most common race of people seemed to be the wolf-beastmen and the Kasillik who seemed to make up the bulk of the people coming and going. Fortunately, there seemed to be no real animosity between the cats and dogs, which would have struck Krymnt as a little heavy handed in sticking to stereotypes. She wasn't alone amongst the Nagaens, either. She saw several Nagaens leaving the town who eyed her carefully, as if trying to figure out who she was. They looked a little tribal to her, with some paint or tattoos on their bright tails, but she didn't know for sure and she didn't want to ask.

There were a number of people that looked sort of like a mix between races, or like no race she’d seen before. Krymnt would be the first to admit that she wasn’t very good at identifying people by glance, so she wasn't going to hazard a guess for the people who didn't neatly fit into a particular set of features. She knew she saw at least one person with both cat ears and little Aethen wings, but most were unplaceable

The city walls were made of great slabs of what looked like unpolished granite, huge like the way the Pyramid's blocks used to be when it still stood. Stacked eight stones high, it made a wall forty feet tall and imposing. The city gates were protected by a giant stone portcullis and a pair of solid doors on massive hinges also hewn, seemingly magically, from stone. Both the gate and the portcullis were made of a shiny black stone like obsidian.

Krymnt, picking up on the theme, realized that she hadn't seen any iron or steel at all since she started playing. She had been impressed before but considering how much real world technology depended on iron for nearly everything, she was instantly awed at the technology of the locals. The architectural engineering alone must have been a mean feat. She wondered how perfectly counterbalanced those gates must be to swing open and closed even with grease.

Of course, magic might have been involved. She didn't have the faintest clue how that worked, so giant doors might be simple. The buildings were almost surprisingly familiar, reminiscent of mid-last-millennium European structures, made only of stone or clay, with wood only here or there visible on the structure.

Krymnt saw a group of Kasillik from her caravan enter a nearby office. She heard them talking about getting scheduled to enter the city, she figured that she didn't have go as well. Instead, Krymnt found herself following the chorus of sound and wafting scent of food past the gates, coming from what she could only describe as a marketplace.

There were good deal of stalls in the clearing, about forty surrounding the perimeter with another row in the center with stalls back to back about ten stalls long. There were was a wide variety of goods being sold, as far as she could tell, from food to arms and armor to information and more. There was a stage set up on the far side of the courtyard, and a group was playing something that sounded like sped up classical music, with a heavy bass drum. She didn't recognize it, but she wasn't really up on modern music trends.

Always aware of when she might be in the way while standing in a crowd, she slithered to the sidle up to a pole between the outer wall of stall fronts and the inner row of stalls. Her gaze bounced from stall to stall, as her hand slowly dipped into her backpack to pull out other coin bag she had inside. Glancing into it, she saw what was mostly a collection of copper and silver, along with a single gold coin.

Krymnt sighed in her head as she wondered how the exchange rate worked. She had more silvers than coppers, but no more than about fifty coins total. She wondered how much money she really had, and if it was worth anything. Damnit she should have researched the game some before jumping into this, but then she wouldn't have ever played, intimidated by the rules and complexities involved. She wished she’d researched it so she would have never played.

She felt the buzzing pinging noise before she realized it, this time her wrist in her mouth. She fought to keep herself from biting harder, instead pulling her hand out and holding her wrist with her other hand, pressure to keep from bleeding out of the miniature pinpricks. Damn it, more scars on Krymnt's body. She had kept the spearhook in it’s sheath, figuring it would be odd to remain armed in the relative safety of town.

Finally, her eyes settled on a town stall that had a large simple tarp poster at the top stating in bold black letters: “Information! Bought/Sold Here! Rumors, Facts and Guides!” There was a simple drawing of a magnifying glass at the far right. Looking at it, she assumed that it must have been a Sleeper that ran it, unless it was a common symbol between her reality and the Magience reality.

Still she’d rather ask a possible-Sleeper and hope they didn't bother her much about her strange questions, then ask something even worse to an NPC.

Finally decided, she slithered up to the stall, which was being stationed by a man who looked a lot like the beastfolk along the caravan, but this guy even had wolf ears, while the others were simply sharp teethed and clawed with the strange markings. This man’s markings looked a lot like a pair of diamonds under his eyes, and an eye-shaped patch in the center of his forehead, all of which were a sky blue color. She wondered if they had any meaning, but she didn't plan to ask.

Her heart was beating hard enough for her to hear it and feel it in small sockets she had for ears.

He perked up when he saw her approaching and sat up from his bored pose, “Hi, ma’am. My name is Oak-Skies Flame-Seer. What questions can I answer for you, or what questions can you answer for me?”

Krymnt took a breath and asked first, “What sort of charge should I expect for this sort of thing, first? I don’t want to go out of my means.”

He smiled at her, “It’ll be only a few credi- I mean, silver, usually less than ten, just to get a few questions answered, unless you need something that requires research or is particularly involved. You can also trade information for information.”

Krymnt nodded, biting a little on her lip. She didn’t mind paying, but she suspected this might be the case, “What kind of information do you buy?”

Oak-Skies waved his hand a little nebulously, his sharp claws obviously, and his wolf ears twitching, “Quest information, rumors of treasure, political or economic intrigue, depending. Our guild’s reputation is backed the priests of Vaenuru.” He looked at her expectantly, as if anticipating her next question.

She skipped the bait, asking, “Alright. I came to Crescent Valley with a caravan of Kassilik. About six hours from here, on the road south, we were attacked in the middle of the night by Dune-hivers, a small young hive of them. The Kassilik were going to bring this up to the local authorities in the next few days, because if the dune-hiver queen got a chance to settle in, the hive might slow down trade and would certainly threaten the lives of those on the road. Also, it is particularly odd to see them this far west, apparently, as they prefer to nest into the harder earth beneath the sands.” She paused to catch her breath, “I think, and this part is more speculation on my part than any actual evidence, something bigger or more dangerous has driven them out of the desert. Creatures don’t abandon their biomes except by external circumstance.”

Oak-Skies listened with attention, nodding and picking up the quill that had lain idle by his hand. He began scribing notes on the paper before him, making sure he got all the details. “You said you were attacked? Where did they come up, and about how many attackers? And where is your caravan now?”

Krymnt nodded, “They attacked us within our caravan circle on the road itself, and there were maybe forty or so threshers," that's what the Kassilik called the hatchet-bugs," and no sweepers. Should be pretty obvious where they hit us, the Kassilik buried the remains of their bodies in a shallow pit and put up a sign warning travelers. The caravan is ten minutes out of town now, in the camping area just south of the Blue Saddle Stables.”

All these facts were details and slang she picked up on while listening to the caravan all morning and early afternoon. She wasn't just pulling this out of her tail, either. The catfolk were going to convene a meeting tonight so that the caravan leaders would decide who would have the responsibility of informing the authorities of Crescent Valley. Apparently, it was extremely boring duty, so the Kassilik leadership would have to strong arm someone into wasting their day talking to each of the guilds and the town guard.

Krymnt figured it wouldn't hurt to be able to sell the idea as a quest before it was officially posted, especially if someone went by the caravan tonight or tomorrow morning to learn the quest details.

What better way to disseminate information amongst Sleepers who wanted to level up than by selling the information as hot news?

The man seemed to take an interest in her details, so clearly she wasn't wasting his time. Her cheek hurt a little from nipping at it with her teeth, and she felt her heart beat just a little softer. She’d done the hard part. Now she just needed to get paid.

He finished taking notes, saying, “One last question. Who would the caravan recognize as having provided this information?”

Krymnt let a breath go that she had been holding, before finally saying, “Krymnt. My name is Krymnt.” She spelled it for him.

He asked, curious, “No surname?”

She shook her head, not wanting to take a name she didn’t deserve, “No. Krymnt is fine.”

Krymnt waited for him to finish writing down a few notes, she didn't read what he wrote. For one, she wasn't very good at reading things upside down. But mostly, she didn't like to invade the privacy of others, even if he was just writing simple based note on what she herself just told him.

He nodded, “Alright, Krymnt, that’s pretty good information. You should have enough credit to ask seven or eight questions easily. Feel free.”

She ground her teeth for a second, thinking clearly, “Where do most of the Nagaens reside in Crescent Valley?”

He frowned a moment, pointing towards the east side of the town, “Back that way up against the wall. They have several homes, offices and an embassy that way.”

She nodded, “Where can I find a good inn around here, preferably with running water and even a shower or bath?”

He looked more puzzled than before, saying, “Just about any inn around here will have that, Crescent Valley has running water in most buildings. I recommend the Overlook for newcomers, they have a good view. North side of town, blue building along the far wall. ”

Krymnt didn't know why he was so puzzled, but she continued to ask her questions, “May I ask what race you are? I do not wish to be rude but I don’t recognize it.”

Oak-Skies laughed at this, “Don’t worry, Nagaens don’t run into Lykos too often this far west.” His ears perked up and waggled a bit at the top of her head, “I am a Lykos/Yokai. You know, these questions aren’t really worth anything, mostly just generic questions. If you’d like, for three or four questions on credit, I can give you a basic map of the town.”

Krymnt almost snapped her fingers. Yokai, that’s the name for the beastmen on the caravan. She felt stupid for calling them Youma. They weren't even very wolf Iike when compared so obviously to the Lykos mix before her now. With the Yokai claws and sharp teeth and markings she simply felt they gave off a feral look and assumed it was some sort of dog motif. She wondered if that was racist, or just her knowledge of games working against her.

Krymnt nodded, “That’d be great, thanks… I still have a question? Who would I go to learn the basics of magic? I… I never really had the opportunity before.”

She didn’t know if he thought she was an NPC or a Sleeper, but she didn't really want him to ask. He nodded, saying, “Well, I think that Qix teaches magic to beginners, and sells focuses as well, at a reasonable price. She has her own store in town, just down the road from the Overlook. You can’t miss it. Brightly painted, with a couple crystal lamps out front. She’s open most of the day and is up a lot of the night. She tends to greet strangers with candy very well.”

Oak-Skies said this last part as if it were completely natural, but Krymnt didn't argue. If Qix liked candy from strangers, then she’d figure something out.

At this, Krymnt stalled, not sure what else to ask. She had an infinite number of questions, but they certainly were not for Oak-Skies. She mostly just wanted to find a room to rent and relax in it for an hour or two, while grabbing a bite along the way.

He seemed to notice her stumped expression and said, “Well, if you don’t have any more questions now, I can give you a pair of information vouchers for your help, or I can pay you in cash with a silver piece. The vouchers are valid at any The Scrying Glass location. That’s our guild, by the way. The Scrying Glass. Which do you prefer?”

Krymnt took the vouchers and the map and thanked him for his time. He said the pleasure was his, and she strolled- for a certain definition of stroll- away. She had her eye on a place selling whole birds of some kind, roasted and glazed in something shiny, hanging on little ropes.

It cost her some silver, but she got a bird, and they conveniently wrapped it in paper and gave it to her to eat later.

She was starving by now, as it was nearly dinner time, and she hadn't had more than a little trail rations for lunch.

Overlook wasn't hard to find. it was the only building with a large glass-paned patio on the roof, and was indeed painted blue. It wasn't quite set against the wall, but it wasn't far, and it was about a story taller than the wall itself, a large building with a well kept exterior.

Krymnt talked to the woman who ran the inn, an older looking Aethen with bigger wings than the Nagaen’s girl had seen before. Renting a room for a week was easy, though it cost her the golden coin, with some change back, to get it paid for. Krymnt resolved to work to get the money back for Krymnt or, at the very least, write a very apologetic letter.

She made her way up to the second floor, where her room was, and used her key. She slithered all the way in before looking around at the amenities, closing and locking the door behind her with a grateful sigh. Alone at last.

A sultry chuckle came from behind Krymnt, from where no one was standing before.


	4. Name Selection

A sultry chuckle came from behind Krymnt, from where no one was standing before.

Krymnt stiffened, turning her body to face the previously empty room. The inn accommodations were nice, with most everything made out of stone, from the bed posts to the desk and chair in the far corner. There was also a nightstand and a small dresser, though she didn’t think she’d end up using them. She got a room on the south side of the building, so she could see out the window into the streets she had just came from. The floor was made out of a cool grey stone as well, though there were rugs placed about strategically to ward off the worst of the chill. The nicest perk to the room was the bathroom to the right of the entrance, large enough to host a small shower, according the the innkeeper, though the Nagaens doubted it would be big enough for her whole body at once.

The room was well furnished before she got inside however; none of those things were what caught her eye.

Instead, it was the mostly-yellow-but-with-a-pinkish-tinge hologram of a person that caught her eye, standing in the center of the room with a smug smile on the curve of their lips. They didn't put off a lot of radiance, allowing the Nagaens girl to clearly see the shapeless robes, page-boy style haircut and small dragon wings sticking out from their shoulders. The face was mostly blank, eyes hidden behind bangs, but there were lips enough for expression. The hologram was, overall, androgynous but familiar to Krymnt. It was the same Creative Assistant that helped Krymnt at the start of the game.

Krymnt relaxed from an alarmed state to a wary one. "S.F.E.... I don't remember the other digits. What are you doing here?"

The smile broadened on the hologram and the Creative Assistant drifted atop light, weightless even, feet, towards the bed along the right wall. "It's SFH1028376, but SFE... I like that.” They paused, considering with a finger to their lip before continuing “And can't I just visit my favorite, most beautiful Nagaens player?" Their voice was light and playful, trying to get a rise out of Krymnt. What kind, she couldn't tell, so she ignored it.

Krymnt answered calmly as she pointedly moved to the other side of the room, next to the desk, "Last time we spoke, you said I was your only Nagaens player." The hologram's smile widened, but Krymnt continued, "But, I get the feeling that this isn't a social call. Are you assigned to help me with my request from yesterday? Or about fifty minutes ago, depending on what time scale you use?" She turned to face the yellow-pink interface as she took off her backpack and put it on the desk behind her.

The Creative Assistant tried to pout as they leaned against the bed, nearly sitting on it, "You know, all work and no play makes Hal a dull A.I., cutie. Of course I am here to help you. That's why I didn't bother you until you got somewhere private. The kind little search engine you spoke to noted that you might be uncomfortable talking to a moderator in public."

Krymnt looked up from where she was unstrapping her tail pack. "You qualify as a GM?" She just managed to keep the surprise from her voice but that might have just emphasized her mild disappointment.

The A.I. 'hmphed', crossing their arms and increasing their pout measurably. "Well, not completely, love, but it's night time and the only real GM on staff and working in the real world is trying to figure out... well. He's busy. And none of the others can look into your request while they play in their sleep." One hand gestured imperatively, "So you be nice to me!"

Krymnt winced, not really trying to insult the A.I. who was trying to help, supposedly. She was just not very good at dealing with people so flirty and expressive. "I'm sorry. My day has just sort of been long, and I was hoping this could all get fixed quickly but it sounds like it might be a longer process if everyone is busy or out of office." She really didn't want to be a jerk to one A.I. just because her and their personalities didn't mesh. Krymnt wasn't even certain there was a gap in the intelligence levels between the Creative Assistant and all the other NPCs, except for a gap in awareness-of-Magience and physical transparency.

The Creative Assistant patted the bed next to them, saying, “Relax and tell me about it. I want to help, and I can give a better answer than the Help Engines. Essefy will do everything in their power to help!” They posed, throwing their forearms up to about face level while the tiny dragon wings flapped at their back. The expression was both earnest and childlike, and their follow-up question was full of eagerness, “What do you think? Essefy? Its a cute name, I think I am going to take it. The other, younger C.A.’s have been taking names and I don’t want to be the only one without.

Krymnt put her tail pack on the table behind her while she listened, trying really hard not to clench her jaw or fist or do anything else that might show frustration.

This time it wasn't at the Creative Assistant themself, but mostly at the game. These A.I. are aware enough to want names and identities and they were stuck being used as stock-labor, helping picking out the boob size for characters, and enabling other NPCs to be possessed, all while remaining chipper and friendly and helpful. Her mind really, really wanted to go to dark places, but she really wanted to just get out of the game now, and do as little damage as possible.

Carefully, she said, “It’s a really cute name, Essefy. I’m glad I helped. I… it’s good to find yourself something personal.” She nodded, coiling loosely into what she deemed her ‘sitting position’. She swallowed changing the topic to something she wanted resolved, “So. Do you think it would be possible for me to remove myself from playing this game and give Krymnt her life back? I don’t really like how this game works and I really really just want to give her body back with no consequence.”

Essefy brightened at Krymnt's use of their new name, but frowned as she continued. “You don’t like Magience? Why not? I got that impression from the help-ticket, but I didn't understand just reading the response. Is there something keeping you from feeling immersed?”

Krymnt shook her head, “No, there is nothing taking me out of the game. That’s the problem. This game is too real, with too much continuity, consistency and personality for me. I-...” She paused, sighing, “I don’t play games where I am evil, ambiguous or otherwise. Hell, when I play games where there are moral choices, I can’t ever bring myself to pick the rude or evil option. I hate seeing the NPCs react negatively and I just try to be as good as I can. If I pick the evil option by accident, I go back and reload the game.” Krymnt motioned to the room, “MMOs are supposed to be different. They have a permanent status quo and even if a player kills an NPC, they will just revive in a few minutes. No consequence. Nothing earned, nothing lost. But here…” She slumped, “Everything I do looks like it will have lasting effects. I can’t save the game and I can’t save everyone. I literally cannot win this game, and my mild social anxiety isn't easier to deal with when all of the NPCs are as realistic as any person in the real world.”

Krymnt played games for the escapism. Books were good, but she couldn't change the words on the page to suit her needs. TV shows were inevitably on repeat, showing the same episode again and again and expecting the watcher to soak up the minute detail changes without complaint. She watched the occasional movie that came out, but so many of them were escapism into worlds that held no appeal, like character dramedies or relationship/action movies.

With most games, she could either save and reload before every major decision, or she could read up on the guides for the most pleasant endings, or like in MMOs, she could rest assured that anything she did wouldn’t affect the status quo. Except here, where everything was too real. She might as well be out clubbing or at a game center or something if she wanted all this social interaction without any of the stress of lives being at risk.

Essefy quieted down during Krymnt's speech, long enough to let the Nagaens slump at the end, saying lightly, “You know, reality is what you make of it, Krymnt.”

A short bark of laughter, quickly followed by, "Sorry. I'm not laughing. I- well. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of this." She motioned to the room, "Of everything. You don't deserve for me to demean your world. Treating you with less respect just because you work with full knowledge of the boundaries of this... reality isn't any better than mocking the... locals on their lack of understanding." Krymnt spoke wryly, with no small amount of apology in her tone, "Sorry. I am just not used to this. But I really didn’t mean to be a jerk. Sorry."

Krymnt bit the inside of her cheek a little, looking down and away into a dusty dark corner of the room where she was pretty certain there was a long abandoned spider web. She could still see Essefy from the corner of her eye, but she didn’t have the strength to look the Creative Assistant in the eye.

Essefy had their head propped at precisely the right angle for a raised eyebrow, their arms crossed. "You are weird, Krymnt, even for a Sleeper. What were you expecting? I certainly did my best to keep your expectations for Magience high. Did I not impress you with your first experience in Magience?"

Krymnt nodded and, knowing it would appeal to Essefy's personality, she added, "Yes. You were- you are really impressive, but I didn't think that the other NP…. The other non-Sleepers would be just as personable, emotive and friendly. I am used to them having dialog trees and random comments as I pass by, not complete conversational freedom.”

Essefy smiled, “The planet is called Riariti, and the natives generally called Riaritians. And you seem to be doing okay. You respect everyone, which is most important.”

Krymnt sighed, “Yeah, but that doesn't do much for them. Or Krymnt. Or Krymnt’s parents. Hell do I have parents?” She looked at Essefy, eyes focused, “Can you tell me about Krymnt? I need to tell her family she has issues. Or her house. Do Nagaens take care of their young at all when they get sorted into their job? Do you know who Krymnt would contact?” She knew only a little about how this all worked, Essefy having explained it all in broad terms in the character creation part of the game.

Essefy shook their head, “No, I don’t know who Krymnt's parents are, or her family. You are supposed to explore and find this stuff out yourself as a player.” The Creative Assistant saw Krymnt’s crestfallen look and tsked, “None of that. You don’t have to interact with them at all if you like. Your job is that of a Courier, I bet they travel all the time anyway and don’t have a normal home. You probably will never run into them.”

Krymnt nodded but didn't say anything, glancing at her backpack that still held a bundle of papers she had yet to investigate. Essefy continued, “You ought to just relax a little and enjoy the week, since I can’t really promise a good answer until tomorrow.”

The Nagaens girl sighed and nodded, “Alright. Alright. I can always finish up Krymnt's current job and try to earn back her money, so she can get back into the game without having lost anything.”

Essefy perked up at this. “Good! And while you are at it, try the food. I've heard it’s exceptional on Riariti.” At this, Krymnt’s stomach gurgled loudly, from somewhere in her gullet. Essefy laughed while Krymnt looked a little embarrassed. “And don’t worry, you are at the top of my concern list. I will push your issue up as soon as I can.”

Krymnt nodded, saying earnestly, “Thanks, I appreciate it. Sorry for all the trouble.”

Essefy waved off the comment with their hand, “Don’t let it bother you. I am here to help. Just have fun, for the gods’ sake. You make me feel like a bad C.A., by putting you in a body that you don’t like.”

Krymnt snorted, “It’s not the body, but the baggage.” Essefy laughed at this as she continued, “Thanks again Essefy. Have a good day.”

The Creative Assistant held both thumbs up encouragingly, before vanishing in a tame flash of yellow and pink sparkles.

Krymnt watched the tiny dancing lights vanish completely as her stomach growled again. With a sigh, she turned to the chicken wrapped in wax paper.

Emotionally drained, she enjoyed the cool but delicious meal, which tasted of foreign spices and a tang of honey sweetness. In the quiet solitude of her room, it didn't take long to demolish the bird complete leaving only bones and scraps. She carefully bundled the package back into the paper and then cleaned herself off at the sink in the bathroom, resolving to throw the bones away downstairs when she took a bath.

With her hunger mostly sated, she started pulling things out of her backpack and tail pack, focusing mostly on the package of papers that she had found earlier when she first dug through the pack. A little organization and she stacked the papers into three piles, excluding the town map she still had as well as several blank pieces of paper.

The first of the three stacks was a single fine piece of flattened leather that looked official, with a seal and an embroidered edge. It clearly stated that Krymnt Sylv-Korl was an official member of the First Western Riaritian Courier Guild, with a starting date, and an expiration date that meant nothing to her. It also had a few clauses stating that she was registered to work under international statutes, delivering goods as contracts required.

Krymnt shook her head and put the document aside, marking it in her head as high importance.

The next stack of documents were a set of nearly identical contracts, each with a fair amount of fine print. They were obviously something like official courier order forms, most with blank spots for the person who was sending the package, who will receive it and where it is going, and how payment was handled. In the writing of the contract, it stated that the courier received payment based on travel distance and a small percentage of the cost of the item itself. This seemed reasonable, given that there was a clause about how the courier would receive what seemed like a giant bounty if they stole what they were supposed to delivered.

One of the contracts, each of them made of a long scroll of paper, was filled out, stating that Krymnt was delivering two crates to Wrestl at the Crescent Valley Nagaens Consulate. It stated that once the delivery was made, she would take a bill of receipt to the nearest bank so that payment could be filled back to the originator, and she would be paid in sixty-four silver.

Knowing this, Krymnt breathed a sigh of relief; she wouldn't be without any guidance on who to deliver the crates to, in order to complete her obligations.

The final stack of papers, two or three letters worth, seemed to be personal to Krymnt, written by someone named Sylvianna, a curiously almost normal name in the swath of bizarre ones Krymnt had encountered, herself included. Sylvianna spent most of the letters talking about her travels with her husband, Korlin, worrying about Krymnt, discussing the local cultures she’d encountered, worrying about Krymnt, her work practicing the ‘mystic arts of stone-carving’, and worrying about Krymnt.

Krymnt smiled at the blatant love and care the letters had, but pained at the obvious worry in the letter’s tone. She had a suspicion that these folks were her parents, but she didn't know anything about them. Sylvianna spoke about the stone-carving art in a light-hearted tone, and she made several jokes throughout, clearly a kind and pleasant person. Krymnt noted that they were crossing the Dapl Ocean, going East on some big mission, though the details were vague.

Krymnt noted the dates that these letters occurred in seemed to happen in different months, though she had absolutely no frame of reference for their recency. She sighed, wondering where to begin when it came to sending a reply.

Krymnt was tired, and she could see that the sun was setting in the west, giving her room a distinct orange tinge. She lit the lamp next to the desk and began writing, awkwardly at first, with the quill and ink. She didn’t write a letter back to her maybe-parents. Instead, she wrote a letter to herself, of sorts.

Krymnt wrote a letter to herself, just in case she managed to give the body back to the person who used to be so well loved by Sylvianna and probably Korlin. She wrote a journal of sorts, to herself, so that she would know what happened if she got back into this body. When she got back. Krymnt scowled at the thought that she would eternally be unable to give this body back.

She gave a fair amount of detail, certainly enough for Krymnt to get by if the GM’s decided to get back with Krymnt within an hour, out-Riariti time.

Having finished, she sighed and turned off the lights, before literally crawling onto the bed and falling asleep.

Morning came soon enough for Krymnt, though it started in the baths downstairs. She wasn't going to do anything further in the world of Magience without having taken some serious soap to her body and hair, and she knew she would have to ask for clean sheets tomorrow, if they could spare them.

It was in the predawn light that she made her way down to the baths, which were warm, but still far too cool for her cold-blooded nature. Even so, the water was fresh from the tap, and she wondered where they got all this water on an ostensibly stone mesa. The baths were a simple affair, with two sides, one for men and one for women, though she had to take a moment to figure out which was which.

The baths had two shower stalls and a pool of water, warmed by a nearby furnace. Out of common courtesy, she washed off in the shower first, scrubbing down her scarves even further since she didn't find a laundromat on the way to the Overlook Inn. As they dried out over a stall wall, she luxuriated in soap and tepid waters from the bath checking over her scales.

The most notable spots on her body were the scars low on her belly, where the hatchet bugs- harvesters, they’d been called- got her really good. The scales around that area were peeling, but she didn’t seem to be losing all her scales at once, which she had been warned about during character creation. The end of her tail fared better, with just a small slash across it, about three feet from the tip, and her shoulder was healed over completely from the healer’s magic.

By the time her tops were simply damp, rather than wet, she decided to head back figure out where breakfast was served. Fortunately, a sign near the entrance clearly stated that meals were served on the roof veranda. To breakfast, she wore the royal blue scarf mostly because it was least obviously damp by color. Krymnt went up the stairs on the outside of the building, all the way to the top of the building where the glass enclosed roof sat.

Overlook Inn’s name didn't do it justice. She came up to the roof on the south side, away from the town walls, and to the north she could see for miles and miles. Drawn inexorably closer, she saw that Overlook Inn had a view of a massive canyon that ran across the entire north side of Crescent Valley. It was so deep she couldn't see the bottom, but the cliff-side walls were amazing. Alternately craggy and smooth and even, in parts, isometrically carved, as if made of crystal itself in places, the stone layers were all colors of the rainbow, many of the stones shining, almost radiant. Even the deepest black obsidians to the brightest white marbles were visible, with greens and blues and reds all apparent in the cliff walls. True to it’s name, the valley curved in a crescent from east to west, with the town itself resting on the inside of the curve.

There was a huge waterfall on this side of the cliff to the east that she could see over the wall. It came straight out of the stone beneath the city and drowned the unseen valley below. Past the waterfall, towards the rising sun, there was a massive suspension bridge across the valley made of stone and wood and cables of some unknown material. The construction must have bridged the gap at one of the Valley’s narrowest points, which must have been almost three blocks, an amazing feat of engineering in a world without modern technology.

Krymnt had only started to get a real grasp on her wonder at the beautiful rock and stone and waterfall when she sensed someone step beside her. A little startled, she turned to look at who it was, and saw the same older Aethen woman who rented her the room.

She was smiling and pleasant and didn't comment on Krymnt’s start, instead saying, “I love this view, and I love seeing people admire it for the first time in the dawn light.”

Krymnt smiled back, but her gaze was drawn to the valley as she spoke, “Yeah, its amazing. I can’t believe no one told me about this.”

Thinking back, she could remember sly smiles and knowing gazes when people asked if she had ever been to Crescent Valley before, from the information broker to several of the Kasillik on that last day. But at the time, she’d been far too self-conscious to think they were smiling at anything but her naivete or awkwardness.

The woman smiled, and said, “Yeah, its a bit of a local joke. Legend says that the town founders named the town something boring like ‘Crescent Valley’ so that people wouldn't flock to the area and try take the city from them. Anytime someone new comes, it is tradition to not tell anyone and let them discover the sight for themselves because no words could do it justice.”

Krymnt smiled, thinking about how fun that sort of inside joke might be, swearing to keep its tradition.

They stood there, admiring the view for a moment, when the innkeeper finally said, “Well, I have a breakfast prepared with loaves and butter and gravy and pancakes and jelly and fruit, but I think all I have for you this morning is eggs and some sausage. I hope that is okay for you. Not as many Nagaens stay outside the enclave, so I only have the standard fare.

Krymnt assured her it was fine, the feast was for her eyes, not her stomach.

While the innkeeper left, Krymnt reluctantly turned herself from the windows to find a table, which were scattered across the roof with chairs. There were some other people up, but it was still early in the day.

She saw a pair of almost identical Yokai quietly eating dinner near the view in nice but practical clothing.

There was another person, a wealthy looking and almost human in appearance until Krymnt saw the pointed ears underneath his long hair.

On the far side of the glass rooftop, she saw a trio of well armed and slightly boisterous people, an Elf, a Yokai hybrid, and a shorter Fae hybrid of some kind, making jokes and laughing loudly over their meal. They looked like adventurers, so she guessed they were Sleepers. Krymnt stayed away from them, choosing to take a table that afforded her a view of the waterfall and bridge.

Negotiating tables and chairs as a Nagaens was going to be a continuous, interesting challenge in this world. She finally settled on an arrangement where she wrapped her tail around the four legs of a chair, before resting on the cushion itself, which placed her a about a foot higher than the table than was comfortable, but not unmanageable with her excess tail wrapped around a chair leg, out of the way and hopefully not stepped on.

She enjoyed the breakfast brought to her, which consisted mostly of eggs and sausage and water- apparently even fruit juice was questionable on her diet- and decided to head downstairs as the roof slowly got busier with wealthy looking merchants and craftsmen. She stopped by her room to pick up her backpack and tail pack, leaving her spare clothing behind to dry before leaving the inn.


	5. Backstory

The streets were paved in smoothed stone, still cool from the night air. After the gravel of the road, it was a relative godsend on her tail end. Having taken her time at breakfast to admire the canyon, the roads were relatively busy as people got moving in the morning. Having donned only the blue top and her backpack from her room, she had decided to leave her other pack and her hookspear in the room she had rented for the week. She was making her way leisurely towards the east side of town, where the Nagaens were said to reside. 

Though, to be honest, Krymnt was not as attentive as to where she was going as she should have been. It was a good thing she had cultivated a strong sense of walking through crowds without looking in the real- on Earth, because she was too busy staring at her left arm to really give much attention to the people.

She had forgotten to ask Essefy. She’d forgotten to ask the Creative Assistant about her scars.

Krymnt's skin wasn't quite skin, so much as a collection of fine, small green scales, individually as small as grains of rice and colored a bright verdant green. They were, if she could say so without being vain, rather pretty in her mind. She wasn’t staring at the green scales so much as she was staring at the constellation of paler spots all over her arm, almost like reverse freckles, of a pale green.

Krymnt didn't think they were freckles however, these individual stray spots, most smaller than even an individual scale in places, each slightly sunken in, like reverse scars. Actually, she was certain they were scars, because they were worse along her shoulder and on her left hand, with a small patch of her left index knuckle almost completely that pale green. Her right arm also had a few spots here and there, but her left arm definitely took the brunt of her self-recrimination.

Krymnt- Earth Krymnt, that is- also bit herself occasionally, in complete privacy, when no one could see her, alone and rigid with anger at something, usually herself but occasionally others. But she had rarely ever caused herself to bleed. She had never scarred herself and the worst indent in her skin would fade in a couple hours, and she’d only bruised herself a few times, especially when she was young.

This Krymnt- Riariti Krymnt- did the same thing, but it left marks. It left marks for years and years. She could already see that the bite she left on her hand just two days ago, at the fleshy bit between her thumb and index finger, was already healed, but a mark was left among a myriad of other marks, long made by a woman who was probably dead forever, the only proof of her existence were these scars.

Krymnt had meant to ask Essefy about the marks. She hadn't chosen them during character creation. Admittedly, she hadn’t been staring too closely, and Essefy, who had claimed to have a good feel for aesthetics, asked if she could do a little work. Krymnt had given her permission, but she didn't remember seeing anything like that. Of course, Krymnt wasn’t very attentive to physical appearance, especially her own. She didn’t even remember to look in the mirror before leaving the Inn. Still, she thought she would have noticed all the scars.

Probably. Krymnt hadn't spent more than a few minutes staring at her face and body features, and Essefy hadn’t really pointed it out at the time, spending most of her time excited to help make her first Nagaens Player. But the bite marks were undeniably what broke all suspension of disbelief for her.

The scars were proof to Earth Krymnt that this body wasn't hers. She didn't remember them, she didn't pick them herself. They were proof that she was an invader, not necessarily unwelcome, but certainly uninvited. The scars were the work of a person with issues, with real problems like any human.The thoughts did nothing but depress Krymnt. She would have nibbled on her tongue, or her arm, but the reminder was too strong and she couldn't. All she could think about was what life she had stolen from an innocent person.

Of course, Krymnt did think she was being a little silly. She hadn't legally killed anyone. Accidents in cars still happened, albeit infrequently. She was sure they- the people who accidentally killed someone- didn't eat themselves up with guilt forever. Of course it was a preventable accident, just like this one. If Krymnt had simply spent more time researching the game to understand, if she had only not walked by the game store on the way home from work. If only the driver had been more careful, or had taken another route. Same song, different verse.

This did not make Krymnt feel any better, but she did get tired of her own melancholy. And she probably ought to focus more on her surroundings, given that she found herself in areas increasingly populated ramps rather than stairs, and Nagaens rather than bipeds.

Once she realized what the ramps were for, she was imminently grateful, though the ‘why’ of their existence made perfect sense. Stairs worked perfectly well when the main surface people stepped on happened to be the flat parts. For Nagaens, she had to balance on the sharper edges to make her way up and down, sort of like stepping on rails with bare feet. It made perfect sense that Nagaens would instead utilize ramps rather than stairs, with that in mind.

Krymnt pulled herself out of her reverie completely, noting that people didn't seem to give her any longer or more interested stares then she got in the other parts of the city. Probably just the usual stares spared for a non-local, though she knew if she let herself speculate she would worry deeply that she was doing something wrong.

So she didn't and instead focused on finding the Nagaens consulate she was supposed to deliver the crates to. Once Krymnt laid her eyes on one particular building, she was pretty certain she found it. It was the only building set back from the road, ornately walled off from the main thoroughfare, with a single guard posted at the entrance, looking a little bored, lightly armored, and lazily wielding a naginata.

The building was tall, nearly as tall as the walls and looked more like some sort of artful, medieval office building, vaguely reminiscent of something but yet something wholly separate from anything in Krymnt's memory of anything from Earth. Of course, like everything in this town, it was made of stone as well, from the shutters to the shingles. Given that there weren't many trees for days around Crescent Valley, and trees that did exist were solitary, lonely and more spine and needle than branch and trunk, it wouldn't be very cost effective to do haul in so much wood.

It should go without saying that the building, much like the walls surrounding the courtyard, was finely crafted and elaborately decorated, with relief images carved subtly into the surface. They were almost hypnotic, but that was because Krymnt was trying to put some sort of coherent image to the shapes. The word ‘mirage’ sprang to mind. After a while, she decided they were just decorative swirls and patterns, and stopped trying to put substance to their shape.

Krymnt approached the honor guard who perked up at her approach, as if trying to appear more alert than he had been moments before. He nodded to her and said, “Ma’am.” The guard Nagaens was colored a bronze with green and blue markings. He was shorter than her, in length, though she found herself looking up at him anyway.

She nodded back, asking, “Is this the Crescent Valley Nagaens Consulate?”

He gave an affirmative twitch with his free hand, “Aye. May I ask your business here?”

“I’m a courier. I have a delivery for here, to Postmaster Wrestl…”

He nodded again, “Go on in then. He's in the first room on the right.”

Krymnt nodded and made her way through the gate and into the courtyard. Instead of being decorated with botany, the ground throughout was made of fine cobblestones, mostly in shades ranging from pure white to steel grey to a shiny dark obsidian and arranged in neat patterns.

She went up the ramp to the door and began knocking. The guard looked back to say, “Just go on in.” She nodded, embarrassed and hoping her face wasn't flushing. Krymnt opened the door and went inside.

The inside of the consulate was as nice as the inn she was staying at, with the monochrome stone patterns from outside carrying into the room itself.

The difference was the casual placement of both rugs made of fur indeterminate source on most of the open space and colorful fluffy blankets, placed around the room like large floormats along the side of the room.

Ahead was very clearly a receptionist’s desk, with a very equal lack of any attendant. Krymnt cautiously slinked her way up to the desk, looking for someone to help. As she did so, she found herself atop one of the rugs.

Normally, she didn't really focus on the sensations that passed through her tail as she moved. For the most part, the bottom of her tail was relatively calloused, so it was only mildly irritating, having to crawl over rocks or pebbles. It was still noticeably uncomfortable, though nothing like the tingly-burny sensation that happens when taking damage. The fur rug, however, was quite notably more comfortable to move and stand on in comparison.

The desk was definitely unattended, and while Krymnt could certainly hear others further in the building, she didn't quite feel comfortable just making her way through what could very well be the equivalent of a foreign nation’s embassy. She had no idea if being a Nagaens was automatic grounds for being considered protected by a consulate. She didn't even know what Riariti used the word ‘consulate’ to indicate.

She wondered at the idea that everyone seemed to speak English.

Her mental foray into the ideas of Riaritian linguistics by the sudden motion and arrival of a dragon.

Admittedly, it wasn't a big dragon, swooping into the room from one of the open side doors, floating on dragonfly-like wings. Its wings shimmered all colors and seemed to lend dust to the air that glowed before fading out of sight. The mini-dragon was a bright blue, almost electric, and seemed to be excited.

It trilled once, long and high, before a series of three chirps. It then flew closer to Krymnt, apparently to investigate. She, not quite voluntarily, flinched back as the thing appeared to be about to crash into her, but the dragon clearly had complete control of its flight.

It looked at her sideways and seemed to chirp a few times apologetically as well as questioningly.

Krymnt, looked around for a moment, before saying, “Um, I am looking for, ah, Postmaster Wrestl, maybe? I have a delivery to make for the consulate.” Was this the receptionist? The desk was clearly made for a human, or, as the case may be, a Nagaen.

It seemed to bob in understanding, before trilling again loudly.

A voice from the next room came, an older man, seeming gentle but harassed, “Yeah yeah, I’m coming, Bug. You try getting around when you’re four hundred years old.”

The blue dragon thing, no larger than a housecat, but with a tail as long as it’s body, chirped a few more times in something akin to humor, circling Krymnt faster than she could easily follow with her eyes. Instead, she focused on the doorway the voice had come from.

Another Nagaens moved into the doorway and froze. He was colored a bright orange color, with brown speckles along the tail, at least as much as she could see of it. His face was older, and his hair appeared to be going grey. He wore glasses and a brighter yellow vest with pockets. He held what could only be described as a ledger under one arm, and a pen in the other.

Krymnt was a little concerned at his stunned reaction, asking, “Um, is everything okay? I, uh, can leave if you like. I didn't mean to- I need to deliver a package here, but I can come back. I’m Kry-”

He answered for her, saying, “Krymnt. Gods and blessings girl, I never thought I’d see the day when you’d all grown up.”

At the back of her mind, she noted that the man gave her name, ‘Krymnt’ a strange emphasis at the end, like it was from another language.

At the forefront of her mind, all she could think was that she was well and truly screwed, as this man knew her, and she didn't know anything about him.

She opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, but the man continued before she could come to any words. “Krymnt! It must have been forty years ago, and you were a wee baby, but that pattern, and your scales, Oh, you still got your clutch parents skin and eyes. And nigh twice their size it looks like!”

A little less at a loss for words, but still worried she was going to say something stupid, she spat out, “Clutch parents?” Fourty years? Krymnt was forty years old?

He moved further into the room to meet her, smiling as if he was meeting an old friend. “Yes, oh of course. You parents may not have talked about them as much, but I knew them well. I know your Path parents too, though not as well. Never have I seen an Aethen so proud of her daughters first sidewinding. Really, no non-Nagaen parent ever; she was just so excited. Is Sylvianna and Korlin doing well? How long have you been on your own? What brings you up this way? Have you seen the valley yet?” He paused, watching Krymnt’s face. “I’m sorry, dear. I think I got carried away there. You... are Krymnt, right?”

Krymnt smiled, liking the older man’s amiable attitude, before answering, “Yes. I’m Krymnt Sylv-Korl. It’s nice to meet you, ah…”

The old man put his hand to his head, annoyed at himself, saying, “Oh where are my manners. I am Wrestl Cres-Vanc, more or less the postmaster for the Nagaens in town. Here, come into my office, and let me make you some tea.” He motioned for her to follow him back into the room he came from. Bemused, Krymnt followed, as the little mini-dragon swooped around the pair of them, chirping occasionally.

“Well, It’s nice to meet you Wrestl. I’m going to try to answer all those questions but…” She coughed to hide a laugh, “I might miss one or two. My parents are doing fine. They are crossing the Dapl Ocean on some delivery, so they won’t be back for some time.”

The office was nice, and had two wall length shelves with square slots in them, as well as a desk with plenty of space in front and behind it for cushions like the ones in reception, only nicer. Wrestl went behind his desk to work on a teapot and some cups at a side table, apparently using some heating plate that had no power-cable. He motioned and Krymnt settled on the heavy blanket before his desk. It was surprisingly comfortable to rest on, clearly made for a Nagaens, though it might have been made for someone a little smaller than Krymnt herself. The little dragon settled onto a perch on a shelf near the door.

“I did see the valley. It was beautiful, especially from the Overlook Inn veranda. I had no idea that many types of stone could blend together, especially of those colors. I am here to make a delivery to you, I believe, though you aren't mentioned by name.” Krymnt didn't forget any of the questions he asked. She just had no idea how long Riariti-Krymnt had been a solo courier before being terminally replaced, so she ignored the question.

He nodded, “Overlook is absolutely beautiful in the morning. My…” He paused and looked at Krymnt considering, almost worried, before continuing, “My wife works as a stonemason, so she mines a lot of what you see, albeit on the other side of the valley, where it won’t disturb the view for the city.”

Wrestl looked at her as if he was waiting for her to make some remark, or comment. Honestly confused, she nodded, venturing, “What’s her name? I -ah, sorry. I am afraid I don’t remember much from when I was that young.”

Wrestl smiled, pleased at something, though Krymnt couldn't imagine why. If she recalled correctly during the character creation portion, Essefy had told her that Nagaens were world renowned stonemasons. “Her name is Dralnt. She’s actually how I know your parents, since she apprenticed to them for a nearly a half century before moving up here. You were barely older than a hatchling then, so I can’t imagine you’d remember.”

Once again, there was a strange emphasis on the “-nt” consonant, like on the end of Krymnt’s own name. It didn’t sound quite natural but she couldn’t figure out why.

Thinking on what she knew about Nagaens more, she remembered that Nagaens were also stalwart believers in destiny, and did not generally mix families between different careers or paths as chosen by the stars. Was Wrestl expecting her to be classist or something? Strange, to think the game was designed to replicate that sort of classism and racism. She now vaguely recalled that Nagaens didn't like the bird people, though she didn't remember the specifics.

Krymnt was relieved that she wasn’t expected to remember much, “Maybe I’ll get to meet her again then… If you don’t mind, I’d like to make sure that I am at the right place for my package? After that, we can talk more. This is-” Krymnt hedged and said, “One of my first long distance jobs, and I want to make sure I get it right.”

He nodded, “Oh I remember those days. I don’t think I started out going across continents for at least a half century. And even then, I tried to make sure it was to places I had been to before. Why, I don’t think I’ve set scale on Elven or Yokai territory in my life. I did stay in Fae country for a few years, but the constant warring made me nervous, so I left before their momentary peace even started. Of course, I bet you’ve spent more of your life hearing about peace than war between the two nations. In my youth, and nowadays I suppose, you don’t count on your courier status to protect you. Bandits can just as easily be soldiers doing a little ‘hunting’ during their off hours as it could be vagrants, desperate and stupid.”

Krymnt nodded, but didn't add much, as she was digging into her backpack for the documentation. Wrestl was a nice fellow, but he was definitely a talker. It reminded Krymnt of one of her coworkers back on Earth, who always wanted to provide a lesson with every talk. He had a wealth of life experience, and wanted to make sure the next generation learned from their mistakes. While he spoke, he had placed a cup of tea before her on his desk.

She played along, talking into her backpack, “I can only imagine. Earning a little on the side never hurt no one, as long as no one finds the bodies, I suppose. And if you happen to acquire some interesting letters, then all the better, and the right lieutenant might be able to grease the other palm for it."

She found the waterproof package with the delivery forms and looked up to see his eyes twinkling, “Exactly right, m’dear. Exactly right. Don’t deliver in a warzone unless you are prepared to fight in the war. Neither side really trusts independent couriers anyway, so the pay isn't as good anyway. Remind me to tell you about the time I traveled between Coral Bay and Anaminia. Took me two months to make a three week journey. Nearly lost my commission on it too.”

Krymnt nodded dutifully at the sage advice as she guided the conversation back to where she wanted it to go, “Will do. Would you mind looking this over to make sure you can receive the items on this list? I’d like to make sure that I send them to the right place. I traveled here with a group of Kasillik and they said they’d be taking things in and out of the city over the course of the next month, but I don’t want my delivery to get in their way.”

Wrestl grabbed the documents and pulled on what appeared to be a wood rimmed set of spectacles as he read over the documentation. “Well, let’s see here…”

Krymnt sort of doubted they had the sort of modern laser optometry in Riariti that was used to gauge eyesight that existed on Earth, but maybe they had the old-style giant clicky-lens machine and questions of ‘Which one looks clearer, A or B?’ Or maybe they used magic. These glasses, to Krymnt at least, seemed more like reading glasses than prescription.

He nodded, “Yes. Normally, I’d ask to see your seal as a courier as well, but I know what your path has been. Just so you know, there is my official proof that you came to the right place.” He motioned to one of the framed certificates on the wall, which read something along the lines of being an accredited postmaster and mentioned his domain being Crescent Valley. Krymnt tried some of the tea, finding it a bit too hot for her taste but mild and, at the very least, not bitter. Something about it's floral notes said it was a white tea, but Krymnt was by no means an expert.

“Everything looks good here”, he said, as he offered the documentation back. “Once you bring the items, I’ll sign the documentation and provide payment. How long are you going to be here in Crescent Valley?”

Krymnt gave an uncertain motion, firmly not wanting to commit to anything, “For a while, but I don’t know quite yet. I’d like to relax at least a while before going on another big journey.”

He smiled, pleased, “Well, if you end up staying for a few days, my apprentice has gone home for a few weeks in the sands, and I am not as nimble as I used to be, so I could use the help taking letters and small packages around town or to the outlying area, if you like. Since it’s local level stuff, we can avoid all the hassle of contracts and paperwork, and it would give you a chance to see Valley proper.”

Krymnt considered it for a moment, nodding thoughtfully, “Yeah, sure. I’ll probably take you up on that, actually.” It would be a good opportunity to earn back the money she wasted on renting a place at the Overlook Inn. In case she could give Riariti-Krymnt back her body.

He smiled, “Wonderful. Actually, when you do have some time, there is this place not far from the Overlook Inn, a little east and two streets down. Its a restaurant, I know the owner and he makes the best Yokaian food this side of the Dapl. His family came here from the west, and have been here for two centuries now. He does the seasoning right with just a little…”

Krymnt decided to let the kindly older man ramble on for a while. It was an easy conversation to hold, a comment here, and laugh at the right punchline. She’d excuse herself in an hour or so’s time, but for now, she was comfortable just letting someone else do the thinking and talking for a bit.


	6. Mana Bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, chapters and writing don't go the way you want them to. I kinds struggled with this one until I realized why. So yeah, the ending snuck up on me there. I've had Magience on the mind lately, so I wanted to get something out too.

Krymnt had slipped away from Wrestl the postmaster around eleven in the morning, when another Nagaens had come by to ask about some invoices. She gave a polite but hasty farewell, worried she might be caught again when they finished, had she not gotten far enough away. The postmaster was a nice enough man, but he could _talk_.

Instead, she meandered towards the marketplace she first encountered when entering the town, to find something easy for her to eat while out and about, a difficult process when limited a strictly carnivorous diet and trying not to get her hands dirty. She could probably unhinge her jaw to eat something cleanly in its entirety- occasionally when she yawned she felt a strange clicking in her jaw, and felt her chin shift noticeably- but she didn’t want to try this in public, especially since it seemed a little rude.

She did finally find a place that was selling flavored, fine cuts of jerky, though she had to take the sign’s word for it that the cuts were anything but the leftovers. They were good,, a mixture of sweet and spicy that sort of reminded her of Chinese food, but also sort of like Cajun food. The food wasn’t as sharply flavored as she expected it to be in spite of her initial impression. Krymnt wasn’t much of a foodie and her mental dictionary had only so much to work from.

It was good though and with a flask full of water to accompany it, she also spent the time getting a feel for the layout near the entrance of the town. She was trying to figure out a mental map of the ways to get around to the places she did know, like the inn and the Nagaens sector. It was strange. Playing most video games in the “real” world, Krymnt had an almost photographic memory for maps and layouts. Magience, much like the real world, seemed to distort her sense of orientation and location.

Once she’d spent enough time looking around the town and making a few purchases, she left out the front gate, heading towards Winstrum’s caravan, so she could tell them where to deliver the crates. Also, she wanted to check on them and see that they were doing well and that there were no issues with getting their permits into town.

The caravan was right where she left it last. She didn’t count the wagons, but there appeared to be slightly less than there were when the caravan first arrived, so apparently the Kasillik have had no trouble getting into the town.

There were a number of Kasillik around most of them lounging around, looked at ease and comfortable. Some were moving things about from cart to cart, and there were a couple well dressed wolf people- Lykos, she reminded herself- that appeared to be haggling about something in one of the covered carts.

Some of the Kasillik recognized her and waved or nodded, and she waved back with her free hand. Only two of the wagons she recognized as Winstrum’s were in the circle, the autochiton also missing. She assumed the third cart and autochiton must be in town. Still, she saw no sign of Slenderwick, Winstrum, Combust, or Miltia. She approached the wagons a little cautiously, sticking her head around the corner of one wagon. The backs of the wagons were a little taller than her “striding height”, so she extending herself to be taller and peer inside.

Someone was resting at the far end, appearing to be relaxing into a nap. It was fairly dark further back, but Krymnt didn’t have any trouble identifying the person as alive and breathing in the dim light.

Krymnt wasn’t sure yet, but she was pretty certain that she could see into the infrared, and was picking up on the heat of the Kasillik’s body. Even so, she didn’t have vision enough to tell who it was, or if they were awake, so she tried to edge back down out of sight without disturbing them. Before she could slink out of sight, two lamp-lit eyes turned towards her in the dark, revealing the owner to be awake.

“Krymnt. I not expecting you.”

It was Combust again, who sat up and stretched, unsurprisingly, like a cat given human form. Krymnt now recognized her by the voice and her slender robed figure, as the Kassilik that threw blue flames in the fight with the dune-hivers. Krymnt smiled and slide away from the entrance of the wagon as Combust approached, “Hey, Combust. I- ah, didn’t mean to wake you. Or bother you. Sorry.”

The quieter Kasillik’s chuckle came out small and quiet like a hiss, but without any malice, “Among our kind, it considered rude if you do not wake someone up when you want something. I just napping.” Combust came to the back of the wagon and deftly hopped down, as if it were just a single step in a staircase, and not three feet up from the wagon’s ledge.

Krymnt was duly impressed, having always been fairly clumsy herself. “Okay good. I didn’t mean to take up much of your time, but I did want to give you the address to deliver those crates, to get them out of your way.” And to discharge the responsibility of their delivery still weighing over her head, but that was mostly a personal thing. Hopefully when the Riariti-Krymnt could come back - _if the Riariti-Krymnt could ever come back_ , a dark thought at the back of her head reminded her-, she would not have to worry about missing her work.

Combust nodded, sweeping her mussed hair out of the way and glancing back into the wagon. Here, Krymnt could see that Combust was probably the shortest of the four Kassilik she knew, at somewhere around five feet. As a Nagaens, she had no idea how to measure her own height anymore, since it could shift based on how she held herself, other than as “longer than most other Nagaens she had seen”. Combust continued in her unusual dialect. “I assumed it somewhere in Nagaens district, but I do not know streets very well. I do not like crowds.”

Krymnt nodded sympathetically. She knew that feeling. She was prone to waiting until lines and crowds dipped than to try to be amongst the biomass. “I understand that. I have an address written down, and a description of the building. One second.” Krympt put down her package and reached back into one of her backpack’s side pouches, pulling out the slip of paper.

When she turned back around, Combust was sniffing slightly and staring at the package on the ground. The cat anthropomorph motioned to it, asking, “What is that?”

Krymnt smiled nervous, giving the sheet of paper with the address on it to Combust as she explained, “Ah, well, I wanted to thank you guys for your help and kindness to me, especially with the travel and the monsters and- well, my confusion. So it’s just some bread and pastries. I am, ah, gluten intolerant but they looked really good.”

Of course, Krymnt wasn’t, she didn’t think, specifically gluten intolerant. But Nagaens could only eat meat, or almost only, so she didn’t really feel like testing it. She’d had bread on Earth, real actual bread, not the food substitute stuff, and it was good but she wasn’t missing the lack of it.

Krymnt picked up the small knapsack that contained both a loaf of honey bread and a handful of donut-like pastries that she got in the market. “If you don’t want it, its okay. I just figured it probably was hard to get fresh bread on the road, so feel free to give it to whoever if you don’t want it. I won’t be hurt or anything.” Krymnt tried not to bite the inside of her cheek in her own annoyance.

‘Just shut up, for gods sake, you sound desperately docile and annoying’, she politely cautioned herself mentally.

Combust took the bread and seemed anything but offended, “Thank you, that is very kind. Slenderwick and Miltia love sweet bread more than anything and they keep trying make me eat more. Since I supposedly eating for two.” She patted her slightly rounded belly, clearly glowing with pride. “Those two in town right now, and I think that Winstrum playing with the ore-forge device.” She motioned to the other covered wagon, as she placed the bread just inside the wagon’s bed. She seemed to pause a moment, before continuing, “Oh. I hear that adventurers came by the caravan this morning to ask about dune-hivers. They go out to hunt them. Did you do that?”

Krymnt rubbed her left arm, looking away as she answered, “Well… I, uh, might have sold the information to one of the information broker guilds. I figured since you were going to report the incident anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to sell it a few hours earlier. I figured, I mean, if adventurers were going to get involved anyway, they might be more eager to take the quest if it felt, um, more secret and exclusive.” She wasn’t too worried that they Kassilik wouldn’t be mad. They hadn’t really wanted to go through the process of reporting the incident anyway from what she heard. But she still was a little worried, and didn’t want to become an outcast for jumping the gun.

Combust shook her head, looking pleased, “No, it is fine. You did good. This save much more time and the group looked skilled to handle it. Thank you.”

Krymnt nodded, “It was no big deal. Anyway, does trade look good for the caravan?”

Combust and Krymnt talked for a bit. Krymnt didn’t want to stay too long, she had other errands and plans, and she didn’t really want to stay long enough to become a bother, Kassilik napping etiquette or no.

The snake-person left the caravan behind, gripping one of the straps of her backpack and feeling a little more confident about the day. If she decided to log out now, at least all of Riariti-Krymnt’s current obligations would be fulfilled. That made Earth-Krymnt feel a little better about it all. She even went to a public bathroom and checked her quest log using the System Menu to check her current Quests.

The menu displayed four current quests:

“       Package Delivery  
     -Ensure delivery of the package to Postmaster Wrestl in Crescent Valley.

        Qix the Spellcaster:  
     -Find out more about the spells and magic available in Riariti. Nyx is a known trainer in the arcane and was recommended by the Scrying Glass.

        Investigate the Guild  
     -Ask Miltia about the guilds she mentioned concerning fighting and warriors, she said she would give you a good referral.

        Temporary Mail Maiden  
     -Inquire more details from Postmaster Wrestl concerning his need to fill in for his absent apprentice for a short period.  
”

Krymnt looked over the lot and sighed. Some of them would be easy to ignore, but she might have to take on the job of helping Wrestl with mail delivery. She wasn’t keen on the idea, but she had already lightened Riariti-Krymnt’s purse enough, and she did wanted to try to have a mostly zero-sum result when it came time to give the body back to the original NPC.

Krymnt tried very hard not to think about all the ifs in her plans.

The Nagaens stopped by a stand in the marketplace before making her way back towards the Overlook Hotel.

She wasn’t going to the Inn, exactly, but instead decided to visit the tall narrow three story building further down the street. The building was lit at the front with crystal lanterns and was painted a cheery spring green, out of place even here on this obviously wealthy and well tended section of town. The front of the house reminded her of a traditional, old-style adobe and brick home, built from a stone she didn’t recognize. there were windows on the ground floor and up, but curtains prevented her from seeing much inside. On the door there was a sign that clearly stated

“Qix’s Magic Tricks  
Knock for Entry  
Solicitors Welcome”

Krymnt was not one for surprises and unknown social cues, but ‘knock for entry’ was easy enough to understand.

Krymnt slithered up to the door, wondering at the mailbox posted next to the entrance at barely three feet high, matched by a shortened door handle. She remembered now that Qix was a Fae according to the Scrying Glass Guild, which probably meant she was shorter than most people. Kyrmnt mentally adjusted herself to be shorter out of sheer politeness before knocking.

A chime sounded from within the house, and before Krymnt’s eyes, she saw a scroll unfurl from nothingness, appearing from nowhere and levitating right at eye level. The scroll only had a few words, “Be right there!”

While the sign reassured her that she wasn’t being a nuisance Krymnt heard what sounded like a crash from the second floor. She nervously looked around, wondering maybe if she ought to leave or something. As she waited, she nervously reached a hand out to touch the scroll, only to find that it was nothing more than an opaque hologram. Or, as the case may have it in this fantasy world, an illusion.

The door suddenly opened and Kyrmnt’s hand dropped, not quite suddenly, because she already knew she’d been caught touching it, but also out of the way to place her hands out of the way at her side as she looked down at the girl- the woman?- before her.

Qix smiled brightly up at Krymnt. At about three feet tall, Qix was a fae with violently bright ocean blue hair just past her long long pointed ears and black skin as dark as void. Her body was covered by an immodest vest and a set of skirts that looked sort of like the pleated legionnaire skirt that Krymnt associated with Roman soldiers rather than fantasy worlds. Her forehead was adorned with a bright white gem and her bright teeth had obvious fangs, with her bottom set looking nearly long enough to jut from between her lips, were they pressed together. She was wearing a pair of glasses that were made of wood and glass, obviously built for her face, which framed her wild, dancing orange eyes.

Krymnt didn't have time to say anything as Qix started, "Hello and welcome! Do you like the illusion? I made it so I'd have time to get downstairs or to tell people I am too busy. And I am not super busy right now, and well, let me tell you I don't get many yellow earth auras on my doorstep. Would you like to come in, dear? And do I smell fresh donuts in that bag? Who told you my greatest weakness?"

Krymnt smiled at the woman who spoke with the solid confidence of someone past their fifties in the voice of a ten year old. Her voice was calm and even paced, but seemed to flow like a torrent, inevitable and unstoppable. "Hi, ah. Sure, I'd love to. And yes, I, ah, was told you like sweets.”

Krymnt was not exactly used to being differential to a kid, but Qix carried herself like someone far older, even if she was still bouncy and light-natured. Qix spun around, showing off her similarly black tail with a cute tuft of matching blue hair at the end of it, and flounced back inside her own home while the Nagaens followed. It was actually difficult to slither into the room while holding herself so low, so Krymnt abandoned trying to be the same height as Qix, a futile effort anyway, and ‘stood up straight’ so to speak.

The house’s first floor seemed to be something like a mix between a living area, and kitchen, all sized according to Qix’s needs, and a library on the other half. The library was set up to be two-teired, so that there was a platform that allowed Qix to stride along and access the upper shelves, while below the platform even more books resided. There was a table and a globe and several well used armchairs, The library floor was covered with a beautiful red rug, and the walls and the platform railings that were visible were painted just as brightly as the outside, albeit in purples and oranges.

As Krymnt glanced around the house, Qix continued, “Oh yes, I do, dear but I am not so capricious as to be easily purchased by just a few snacks. I’d ask if you were here to sell me something but I can see in your eyes you are looking to gain, not to lose.”

Qix walked into the library and threw herself over one of the arms of the chairs to land into the comfortable embrace of it’s cushions, turning in her jump to face Krymnt. For a moment, Kyrmn’t thought she saw the white gem seemed to catch the light and turn red, before returning to white.

As the Nagaens cautiously followed, the Fae continued to speak. “ What would you do with magic? Do you plan on learning offensive spells to blast your foes away, or something more subtle?”

Krymnt wasn’t sure if she wanted to frown or remain stone faced. Instead, she focused on being contemplative, “Honestly… I was hoping to learn something a little more, um, along the lines of utility, like cleaning spells or, um, creating light. I don’t… I don’t even know what kind of spells there are.” She’d normally be a little more careful about how she spoke about these things. Krymnt didn’t want to be outed as a Sleeper so quickly. Something about Qix disarmed her, however.

Qix nodded, “That’s fair. You know, I consider myself a good judge of character.” She rolled off the couch and onto her bare feet. Krymnt was mindful of the skirt and the open vest so she looked away, but she glanced back as Qix approached.

The fae was watching the nervous Nagaens closely. “Interesting, all your rough jagged edges as an earth element are turned inward, a very odd aura. Try these on for me, would you? Don’t worry, they won’t break.” The fae offered the glasses to Krymnt, who hesitantly took them.

As Krymnt pulled the glasses to her face, Qix asked, “Tell me, young lady, why do you think you are your own worst enemy?”

Krymnt’s jaw snapped closed and froze, instinctive in this alien body, stolen after a murder. Krymnt only after a few moments could swallow. She was about to turn and leave, her body starting shake as Qix spoke up again.

“My father was an evil sorcerer. He used monstrous mind magic and enslaved an entire clan of Trow as his minions. My mother was a Trow that he had taken as part of his harem. He got killed when I was barely ten, killed by an ancient automaton in a dungeon he wanted to claim as his lair. When he died, the spells did too. My family was freed. They could have killed me too then, as a I was as Fae as he.”

Qix paced away, towards the kitchen, seeming to pick things up and move them around without reason. Her tail waggled and she shook her head, “They didn’t. As an exchange, I don’t teach magic to anyone who has any destructive tendencies. Your aura and your arms say you hurt yourself when you face external pressure. Do you want to learn magic to help with that? Or do you want to turn your edges upon others instead?”

Krymnt smiled wanely and took off the glasses which ringed the fast talking Fae with a flickering, smoke-in-the-wind-like aura, mostly white with brief flashes of red. Weakly, Krymnt turned to the nearby stand at the doorway and put down the bag and the glasses. Swallowing, she spoke up as Qix turned to face her, this time cutting off the Fae first, “You are right. I am not in the right mindset for this. I am sorry for bothering you. I shouldn’t even be here, trying to learn more about magic. It isn’t my place. I am sorry again and please enjoy the snack. It was manipulative of me to bring them. Have a good day. Sorry.”

Krymnt didn’t quite see herself leave, eyes blurred with tears as she backed up with such haste back out of the house and down the street, anywhere but there. The last thing she could vaguely see clearly was the look of concern and chagrin on the Fae/Trow hybrid’s face.


	7. Quest Completion

Krymnt didn’t cry. Well, she didn’t cry very hard, at least. She mostly let the few tears stream down her face as she made her way back to her room at the Inn. In the privacy of her own room, away from the prying eyes of the world, she relaxed. This consisted of crawling half onto the small bed. It was too small for her size she learned last night, with her torso and first few feet of coiled tail on the bed, while the rest hung languidly off the bed before ending in a tight coil to keep herself from being pulled off by her weight. 

She lay with head down, already the tears gone, but the corner of her eyes strained and burning. She sighed, hating this game for a little while as she slowly drifted into a short nap. 

She dreamed of going to work, sitting at her desk, except she knew it was a dream, like she always did. She was Krymnt, but human, and everything was perfectly fine but she knew, just like she knew it was a dream, that she was wrong. Something was wrong with her. And then she realized that she, even as she tried to avoid this ending in the dream, stole this job, this life, from some poor person who no longer existed, someone vanished into the aether.

Krymnt’s first action was to sigh as she woke up. She hated dreaming, even though that she always knew that she was in the dream at the time. Sometimes she could control it, force the dream to go off tracks from the destination- which she also always knew before she dreamed it- but it was rare. 

Krymnt got up lethargically, it was getting close to an early dinner time. She didn’t really feel any better, but she supposed that at least she didn’t feel any worse, and the peak of her emotions were mostly gone. So instead of feeling terrible and selfish, she just felt a more relaxed miserable and selfish. 

The Nagaens neutrally got herself more presentable, which consisted of blandly smoothing down her messy hair with little success and straightening her top. Krymnt briefly considered combing her tightly curled hair but she had vague notions that this might just make it frizzier rather than straighter. 

Wandering back towards the market square she was familiar with, she picked a vendor serving what seemed like more local cuisine than before, some meatballs in a light gravy, easily eaten one at a time with wooden tines. The Nagaens forced herself to relax and take in the sight of the evening markets. Some places were closing up, but the market, overall seemed just as busy as before. She glanced at the magical items and books for sale. Only looking, she told herself. She definitely didn’t have to the money to buy anything exorbitant.

The ritual of browsing and shopping was an oddly familiar one. Sure, she wasn’t quite as used to the marketplace, and more suited to the mall, but she knew the choreography in either world just fine. A polite smile to the vendor, a common “no, I’m just browsing” to the occasional inquiry, and making sure there was room for any other actual potential buyers. 

The hardest part was ensuring her train of a tail didn’t trip anyone up, so she tended to browse from a far, coiling up and lifting herself to eight or so feet. This way she could see over any of the actual customers, while leaving room for people to move around her. She might have been a slightly larger spectacle as a result, but she could live with that. 

Eventually, she ran out of food, even while eating slowly, and decided it was time to head back. She did buy another serving, hungry still, but she ate it on the way back to the inn. She did not look at brightly colored house owned by Qix.

Krymnt decided that she wouldn’t be doing anything special with the game this week of in-game playing, while she waited for the Magience Admins to look into her request. She instead continued writing herself a letter, so that if the Riariti-Krymnt ever came back, she wouldn’t be at a complete loss of what happened. 

She also considered writing a letter to her parents, but she decided against it. The only reason to do that would be if she found out there was no way to return things back the way they belonged. 

She went to sleep already certain of the plan. The next morning, she had breakfast, this time getting up a little earlier. She saw some of the pre-dawn show on top of the Inn, but today she had work to do. 

By the time dawn eventually decided to peak its head over the edges of the horizon, still hidden behind the walls of the city, Krymnt had made it back to the Nagaen’s consulate, where the postmaster lived. She hoped his offer of work was still open. She had a lot of money to earn back for Riariti-Krymnt, and it was time to start. 

She nodded to the consulate guard, who nodded back. She didn't recognize this guard, who was blue and orange. Because Krymnt acted like she belonged, no one bothered to ask what she was doing entering the Nagaen Consulate. 

The courier-in-a-stolen-body entered the front door of the consulate, this time greeted by a younger looking blue-scaled humanoid behind the desk. She was seated at a folding chair and seemed surprised to see Krymnt at all. Krymnt had the same reaction, as the same desk had been empty yesterday when she came by. 

Even so, the girl recovered quickly, "Hello, ma'am. How may I help you today?" She was clearly not a full Nagaens, with two legs, but the Nagaens was particularly strong in her. Krymnt couldn’t place what her other half was, exactly, but it was humanoid, not resembling any of the beast-like races she’d seen so far.

Wait, was ‘humanoid’ even a term in Riariti? What would they say instead? Elfin? Tail-less bipeds? 

“Hi, I am Krymnt. I was hoping the postmaster was in today?” 

She smiled politely, as if recognizing me, “Oh yes. You are the courier who’s family is old friends of Wrestl? He wouldn’t stop talking about you yesterday.” She stood up and leaned forward over her desk, which was covered with some papers and a few books that weren’t there yesterday. 

“I’m Delfst. I am usually at the desk, but yesterday morning I was attending a diplomatic exchange as an intern, writing meeting minutes.” She rolled her eyes, “It's not nearly as interesting as you’d think.” She smiled conspiratorially, and, for once, Krymnt felt almost at home in a conversation in this game. 

Complaining about desk work is more than universal, it is a constant beyond realities. “I can only imagine. Traveling and seeing distant lands may seem fun to others, but have you ever walked seven days through the same scenery?” Krymnt shivered, as if disgusted, “Trust me I know my fair share of boring.” 

Delfst smiled appreciatively, “Anyway, yeah, Wrestl is expecting you. Feel free to go into his office.” She motioned Krymnt towards the same office as before.

All too soon thrust back into the path of duty, Krymnt made her way into Wrestl’s office. The elder Nagaens looked like he was reading through a group of missives, looking nominally concerned but calm. Krymnt waited at the doorway, hesitant to interrupt, when Bug, the electric blue dragonling-thing, trilled a greeting from its pedastal atop a shelf. 

Wrestl looked up and saw Krymnt and smiled, his previous concern vanishing from his face. He put down the letters and warmly announced, “Ah, Krymnt, excellent to see you again. Doing well today?” 

Krymnt nodded, “As good as usual, at least. How about you?” Having been received, she entered the office, assuming she was welcome. 

Wrestl shrugged, “Oh not too bad. Different day, same old work. Got an odd shipment coming in in a few days. Need to find and hire some mercenaries to protect it while its in storage, according to the contract.” He shrugged, “Not common, but business is business.” 

Krymnt nodded and raised herself up some to look directly at Bug, saying, “And how are you doing?” It made a happy noise and swayed a bit. Smiling, Krymnt dropped down from eight feet to settle down before the postmaster, “That does sound strange. Is it something political or should I not even ask?” 

He shook his head, “No no, it's probably noble’s art piece that he thinks he must be protected at all cost. Nothing diplomatic or important. We are actually the largest accredited mail hub in the city, though most of the work occurs in the next building.”  
Krymnt nodded, “Makes sense. I wanted to stop by and tell you that I expect that the boxes I brought up should be arriving this morning. I was just going to wait here until they arrive, if you don’t mind. I don’t need to be in here, I was just going to be nearby until they arrive.”

He almost cut her off by waving dismissively, “No, No my dear. I am pleased to see you again. I have nothing here that won’t keep. Tell me, have you gotten around town much?”

She shook her head, “Not much, just a couple marketplaces and a few shops.” She did not elaborate on her poor interaction with Qix. “I was actually wondering if you still needed someone to run mail around town. After I get these boxes dropped off, I am free for another five or so days, and I don’t have much else to do.” 

Wrestl beamed at this, “Excellent, I love to hear that, Krymnt. You know, I got my start as a courier running simple errands around a foreign town, though it was far to the east and a little south of here, an Elf town always wet, either from the swampy lochs they love, or the rain. It was hell to keep warm so I just worked to keep my bones. Oh, my bones are becoming stiff just thinking of it.” 

Krymnt nodded, blithely, “Oh I can imagine. I’d hate being soaked all the time.” Krymnt didn’t know anything about how her past-self felt about anything actually, so she was ad libbing. 

In all fairness, she’d have done the same if this were her real life. She’d rather hear someone else talk about their experiences, and found that this sort occasional comment kept things going. She really didn’t like being soaked, so she wasn’t really lying. She was just trying to keep the conversation going, and, Krymnt wouldn’t lie to herself: she had little to nothing to add to most conversations. She cared about the people and the content, not about what she could share about herself. 

“Oh, you’d get used to it. I learned how to swim then and, let me tell you, there’s nothing like being able to give a mer a swim for their money. I won enough money in my youth to invest in a few businesses back home. Actually, if you haven’t looked into proper money investments in the future, you really ought to. You see, I’ve always been partial to the mining industry, given the recent advancements that have been made in mining styles and the growing emphasis on worker safety. Not to mention that the new Kassilik techniques leave less damage on the land too, and the enchantments being used to-” 

Krymnt nodded, and commented as necessary, interested, if only in seeing how far the rabbithole went, as far as “NPC” knowledge went. Not that she really saw the other people in Riariti as a non-player characters. They were the real ones, as far as she could tell. She was the fake one. She also learned far more about magic-assisted mining than she ever expected. Or needed. 

Krymnt was saved when she heard a familiar voice in the next room, asking for either Krymnt or Postmaster Wrestl. She edged back some to look out the door and see Slenderwick at the desk with Delfst. The Kassilik looked over at the motion, and spotted Krymnt. 

The tawny cheetah-esque catfolk smiled broadly, saying, “Hey, we got your crates here. Ready to receive them?” 

Krymnt made her way out of the office, saying, “Only if the consulate is ready,” as she glanced back toward the office for Wrestl, who was following from the sound of it. She looked back to Slenderwick and smiled, “Good to see you again. Everyone doing well?”

His smile never wavered as he answered, “Better than ever. Those rolls were delicious, by the way. I think Winstrum and Miltia nearly stuffed themselves to bursting last night.” 

Krymnt’s smile warmed, as she was honestly heartened to hear that they liked the gift. “I am glad to hear!” Wrestl made it into the main lobby and Krymnt edged to the side, saying, “Slenderwick, this is Postmaster Wrestl, the reciever of my packages. Slenderwick, his family, and the Kassilik merchants I traveled with helped make sure my packages arrived here at all.” 

Slenderwick waved off the comment, “Don’t listen to her down play it. She killed five of those dune-hivers herself and saved a sister-in-law. She is quite the powerhouse.” 

Krymnt nearly ground her teeth, but she found that her sharp teeth were too well aligned for much grinding, so her jaw was instead just clamped tight. She hadn’t really wanted to bring up the dune-hivers to others because-

“Dune-hivers? You were attacked on the way here by dune-hivers? I hadn’t known the roads had become so dangerous.” Wrestl looked both interested and impressed by the news. Internally, Krymnt just sighed, while her face carried a pained grin. She wondered if it looked like some sort of embarrassment to the others. 

Slenderwick, seeming not to notice Krymnt’s chagrin, smiled, “You ought to have seen her crush them like, well, insects. She wasn’t even feeling well that afternoon given that she woke up as a-”

“Where do you want us to unload the packages, Postmaster? I will go start that now.” While her words were nominally for Wrestl, Krymnt’s gaze bore straight into Slenderwick, and her tone was not light. It wasn’t until after Slenderwick took an almost startled step back that she realized that she’d raised herself to well over seven feet tall to stare down at the short Kasillik. 

The pause was pregnant, as the orange-scaled postmaster stood confused, and Slenderwick looked a little shocked, though not afraid. A glance told Krymnt that Delfst was still at her desk, an eyebrow quirked, but no word said. 

Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was only a few seconds, as Krymnt had just lowered herself back down and started towards the door, Wrestl swallowed, “Right. It’s just next door actually. This building is mostly administrative. Next door is the warehouse and shipping stores.” Krymnt nodded, but didn’t look back, feeling more embarassed right then about her outburst than if Slenderwick had just told everyone she was a Sleeper. 

The covered cart, she recognized, was the same one she remembered waking up to during her first moments in the game. It was also the same one she remembered finding Combust napping in. In the bright sunlight of the day, it still evoked those first few moments in the game, when everything was fresh and new and, yet, about to become awkward and less fun. 

The autochiton was attached to the front of the cart, as expected, and she wondered if any of the other catfolk were around, before seeing the cart shift and Miltia hop down from the covered wagon and wave cheerfully at Krymnt. 

Hiding her awkwardness, she smiled and nodded back as Miltia pulled a tab and the cart’s back dropped down flat, to allow for easy access and unloading. “How’s it going, Krymnt? Good to see you again.” 

Krymnt nodded, “Yeah, you too. Find the place okay?”

The tall tigress amazon, as Krymnt could think of her as nothing else but, shook her head and gave a deep laugh. “You nearly drew us a map and gave us detailed instructions. We did just fine.”

Krymnt nodded, glad to hear it. Behind her, Slenderwick and Wrestl followed now, though she was still a little embarrassed to look at them. The Nagaens Sleeper motioned to the cart, “Where are my crates again?” 

Miltia grabbed one crate painted blue, looking like it was made of heavy duty wood and was about two cubic feet large, “This one-” she pulled the crate to the edge of the lowered cart’s tailgate, “-and it’s twin here. Careful, they’re a little heavy.” She pulled a matching blue crate to the edge again. 

Krymnt nodded, gauging their weight by how easily the Tigress pulled on them. She’d have trouble carrying them, even with the handles on the side, by herself. She wasn’t so brash as to attempt it all by herself.

“Those look like they are quite official, don’t they? If you wouldn’t mind taking them to the next building-” Wrestl motioned to the next building over, which, upon reflection, also looked well fortified, but didn’t have a courtyard or a wall to protect it, like the Nagaens Consulate had, “- I will get the doors. I’d help, but my tail isn’t up to much weight lifting anymore,” he said wanly. 

Krymnt nodded and sidled up to the first crate. Miltia nodded assent as Slenderwick hopped into the carriage to help Krymnt with her crate. Miltia herself let Wrestl lead the way, who was heading to a set of double doors. Without ado, Miltia lifted her crate with some effort, but her tall, wide frame and athletic build had no trouble transporting the heavy box. 

Krymnt looked up to see Slenderwick looking apologetic at her, “Sorry, Krymnt. I don’t know when to keep my mouth shut sometimes. Hope you aren’t too mad.”

He looked so pitiful, she couldn’t bare but to relent, not that she held much against him. She was more angry at herself than anything else, “No, no worries. I’m sorry for being kind of a jerk. Help me get this to the ground and you can hop down and grab one of the handles?” 

He nodded. Krymnt grabbed both handles, as Slenderwick grabbed a hinge and the dangling, heavy duty aluminium lock on the top for leverage. They heaved at the same time. 

Krymnt nearly pulled Slenderwick off the cart. 

She was, apparently much, much stronger as a Nagaens, than Earth-Krymnt ever was in real life. Of course, this was patently obvious in retrospect. She was built big and wide, and Krymnt had even chosen to be one of the non-poisonous Nagaens because she though strength might be fun and different, besides, poison was too much of a complicated mechanic for her to want to fiddle with and she didn’t want to have to bite random enemies. 

So Krymnt in Magience was much stronger than Krymnt in real life, and that dischord nearly pulled Slenderwick off the cart. She froze as the crate was a few inches off the crate and Slenderwick was wobbling. “Oh, heck, I am sorry! I totally didn’t- I thought it would be heavier.”

The cheetah laughed, “No, no worries, gave me a start, but I am good.” He let go of the crate, and it became lighter still, as he’d been leaning on it to keep from falling. “Haha, but damn. I wish we had someone as strong as you around all the time. Miltia isn’t always available for unloading and she gets cranky if we ask too often.” 

“I heard that,” Miltia announced from the building across the way. Slenderwick smiled as if he knew she could hear, and hopped down from the cart and began walking towards the building, Krymnt following. 

The next building indeed looked like a warehouse, organized with shelves, though only a couple people were around, one of them cleaning up, and the other one looking like it was running inventory. Nearby was another office, with a window counter into it. Wrestl was already there, motioning that the crates needed to be there. Miltia put hers down, and Krymnt followed. 

Wrestl nodded, “Alright. I will get these properly investigated this afternoon, but I think now I can sign off on your delivery.”

Krymnt smiled but turned to the two Kasilik, “Thanks you two, you’ve been a big help. You don’t need to stick around. Feel free to head out.” 

Miltia nodded, but added, “Don’t be a stranger now. We will probably be here for around a month, so come by sometime. We like you, kid. We want to see you again.” 

Slenderwick nodded, though his grin was a little more sly, “Miltia just wants to see if you bring any more sweet bread.” He got jostled, which, coming from the two foot taller Miltia, was a big jostle. He laughed, and said, “No problem. It’s what you paid for. Besides, I didn’t do the heavy lifting. See you later! Nice meeting you, Postmaster Wrestl.” 

The older Nagaens, focused on reading the inscriptions on the blue boxes, looked up and nodded, “Nice meeting you as well. Have a good time here in Crescent Valley. When you get a chance, send a runner with your caravan’s itinerary. Given how you’ve helped watch over Krymnt, I might be able to commission your group to deliver packages to your next stop, if you have the space.” 

Slenderwick nodded, “Will do. We probably won’t be sure until another couple weeks, but we will give you a heads up.”

Krymnt nodded and the farewells ended shortly afterwards as the Kasilik left. She’d think about visiting them again. Probably not. Not if she could help it. She wanted to give this body back to its owner, not form long lasting friendships. 

“You should always follow up on that sort of thing, you know. Never know what kind of connections will help you in the future.” Wrestl nodded at the door Krymnt had been staring at. “You are never too young to be making connections like that. They will serve you well.”

Krymnt nodded, but couldn’t bring herself to answer personally.

“Anyway, it’s getting to be about lunch time. Do you have the contract for this job?” She nodded again, pulling off her backpack to dig into it as he continued, “I have a lunch appointment today with my wife, but do you think you could come back about an hour after noon? By then I should have stuff set up for you, if you still want to coil the mail around town.”

Krymnt pulled out the stack of contracts, on top being the one for this job, wondering if “coiling” was some sort of Nagaens parlance. “Sure, I can do that. Here you are.”

He looked over the paperwork and signed off on the bottom, pulling a lockbox out from a locked cabinet under the office’s indoor window sill. 

The sixty-four silver was counted out while Krymnt learned about how Wrestl once ran into an old colleague across the continent that could get him through the Growling Forest directly, and had it not happened, he’d never have delivered the alchemical reagents necessary to cure a rash of disease that had spread through a Lykos city in time. 

Krymnt nodded and continued making her prescribed motions, before finally nodding politely, and begging off for lunch- which, didn’t he have an appointment for as well?- and finally escaped a little before noon. 

Krymnt waited until she was out of sight of the Consulate, having taken the first sideroad she could find, before heaving a huge sigh of relief. The job was finished. She was tired of talking to people. And now it was time for lunch. This time, she’d find somewhere she could sit quietly and enjoy dinner at, maybe here in the Nagaens part of town.


	8. Dialogue Options

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to leave feedback or ask questions. I do love to know that anyone has even read this far. I don't even mind if you only have critique to offer. 
> 
> Otherwise, please enjoy!

Krymnt learned that Nagaens tended to eat outdoors. 

This made sense for several reasons. For one, Nagaens were not small. They needed a lot of space and it would be silly to waste so much square footage building a bunch of walls that couldn’t be used for real-estate. 

For two, it appeared as though the Nagaens liked to be in the sun as much as possible. ‘Basking’ seemed to be the appropriate word for it, and she’d seen more than one Nagaens paused in the street, their bodies oriented to face the sun when possible. 

Kyrmnt learned about dining habits when she came across a courtyard that had a ten foot high raised platform with ramps leading to the top level. From where she was, she could see a fair number of Nagaens around tables, eating and talking to one another. Underneath this raised platform was more open-air ‘seating’- Nagaens didn’t really sit, but she didn’t know how else to describe it- tables, but less Nagaens. Most of them seemed to prefer to eat out in the sun. 

As a result of this, there appeared to be no real restaurants in the middle of the Nagaens part of town. Instead, there were several stalls and stands nearby, cooking and serving food to individuals. Some of the Nagaens who got food, seemed to continue on their way, eating as they went about their business, but most went to the platform and either took the ramp to sunny second floor or stayed on the ground in the shady first floor. 

Krymnt got in line for something that looked relatively light and easy to eat, while she thought. 

She decided it must have to do with the Nagaens usual propensity for tribal wanderings. They were used to living outside and cooking outside and eating outside. This kind of setup would make outsider Nagaens feel comfortable, while also accommodating the obviously expensive real estate cost of building inside a walled city. The building, like all the others in Crescent Valley, was made of stone, each of the pillars evenly placed and all of them ornately carved. Krymnt was impressed by the architecture none the less. She wondered if they used some sort of magic to move around the pillars, let alone the stone slabs used to make up the platform on top. 

Krymnt mused on architecture for a bit after finally getting a bowl of cooked meat covered in some sort of spicy sauce with vegetables and a mug of water from one of the nearby stalls. She took a seat in the shaded under-area of the pavilion, mostly because it was less crowded, and secondly because she was less used to standing in the sun all the time. While her body seemed to appreciate the solar rays, she was used to being relatively light averse on Earth. 

When she finished with her meal, she figured she would give Wrestl some more time to sort out his business before bothering him about work again, and she wandered the Nagaens section of town for a little while, visiting a few shops that seemed inviting. 

Finally, about an hour and a half later after she left the consulate, she returned. Delfst was there again, and she smiled at Krymnt’s arrival, nodding to her, “Welcome back. You get anything good for lunch?” 

Krymnt nodded, “Thanks. Yeah I did. I went to one of the stalls near here selling a spicy stew.” The Nagaens Sleeper didn’t know how to name any of the cuisines, so she kept it comfortably vague. 

The Nagaens hybrid nodded, “Yep, I’ve been to Simsis’ before. They do a good job with their sauce, using a few vegetables to thicken it. I know most Nagaens don’t usually prefer it as much, but I have to get something other than meat all the time, and not just for dietary reasons.” 

Krymnt nodded engagingly, “Yeah, I agree. I am usually pretty careful but I like vegetables quite a bit.” Venturing a possible lie, because she liked to fit in, and because it seemed like Delfst was trying to reach out and be friendly, Krymnt continued, “My mom was an Aethen, so I got a good mixture of foods.” Krymnt blinked as Delfst gave her an odd look, looking her up and down, before the Sleeper understood, “Oh, my Path parents, not actual birth parents.”

Delfst nodded, seeming to understand suddenly, “Oh, of course, makes sense. Glad to not be the only ‘plant-eater’ in the room.” She smiled conspiratorially as her voice dropped, “So, you are going to help Old Wrestl to run the certified mail around town for a few days, I heard.” She gestured vaguely, “If you need help finding anyone in town, give me a heads up.” 

Krymnt nodded, “Sure, sure. I will do that... especially if I want to get directions in less than an hour.” She glanced significantly at Wrestl’s door. He really was a nice older guy, but Krymnt couldn’t be the only one who gets “caught” in a conversation with him all the time.

Her grin widened, understanding completely, “I only knew about it because Wrestl talked about you helping him for thirty minutes after you left.” 

Krymnt gave a strained, but understanding, smile, “I only merit thirty minutes? I probably should tell him how interested I am in mining, so he can tell you more about it. I’ll go tell Wrestl now.”

Delfst was struggling to make her grin into a frown, saying in a quiet, angrily joyful whisper, “Don’t you dare!” They both giggled a little as Krymnt headed to Wrestl’s office.

Krymnt had a smile on her face as she entered the older Nagaen’s office. She wasn’t truly trying to be mean about Wrestl. He was a fine person, if long winded, and her jokes were meant more to endear her to other people rather than actually insult Wrestl’s habit of teaching anyone young about life, and trying to teach them with every other breath. She liked Wrestl, but, much like how she imagined people made fun of how awkward and skittish she was occasionally, she’d still talk about him with others, good-naturedly.

Wrestl was arranging some documents on his desk and smiled as she entered, the little dragon trilling a greeting from its shelf. She nodded to them both, saying, “Did I give you enough time or should I come back?”

Wrestl said, “No no, you are very welcome, even if I am busy. Please, come in. I will explain what I need you to do. You probably already know, but please forgive an old man his habits. I like to make sure I remember the procedure correctly myself.”

Krymnt motioned for him to continue, “No problem, I appreciate it all the same.”

“Alright, so I, or an assistant, will lay out letters and packages that need to be delivered over there in that bin. Today I put a smaller stack there, the older or higher priority work that needs to be done since you are starting late. Each of the packages has a name and an address, which, of course, you won’t know. I’ve got you a map of Crescent Valley…” The older man began looking at one of his shelves, stuffed with little cubby holds for papers and files. 

Before he got too far into it, Krymnt spoke up, “Ah, actually, I already have a map.” She pulled it out of the top of her backpack, having already anticipated this, and not wanting to have to manage two different maps. Hers had a few small notes on it, but that’s why she bought it, so she could keep track of locations.

She started to unfold it as Wrestl turned back to her, “Well, excellent. That’s perfect. Nice to see you are already prepared.”

Krymnt smiled, but it was half hearted, as she interjected her part of the conversation to keep it moving, “Yep, I try to be.”

“Well, so… with you map, either I, or Delfst, if I am not here, can mark where you are going. You will likely end up traveling to the same places multiple times, such as the mayor’s office. When you get there, you will bring out this enchanted pad of paper.” He showed what looked like a pad of paper, about half-sized the usual eight and a half by eleven, bound in a leather. “Each of them has an address box, a deliverer box, and a signature box. You press the address from the package or letter to the address box like so-” he picked up a letter that was on his desk nearby, and pressed the address to the box clearly labeled ‘Address’. There was a momentary flash of light and he pulled the letter away, revealing the address had imprinted itself on the paper. “-and it is copied directly. You pull out your official courier seal and press it here.”

For this, Krymnt was not prepared, and she had to pull off her backpack and dig out that letter. She found it, not too far in, and pulled it out. She turned and pressed the seal on that letter to the pad of paper, as indicated. Another flash, and her name and the seal imprinted itself on the page.

He nodded, congratulating her on the simple task, “Very good, exactly right. After that, you have whoever is receiving the package sign in that last box. It will magically inscribe an identical paper both here in our log books for records, and a receipt that the original sender keeps track of if they wish to know when delivery is confirmed.” He flipped to the last page of the pad, “This last page lists the legal requirements of the signee, what fees and bounties they risk by fraudulently signing. Usually most people never look at it, of course. The person who signs doesn’t need to be the person listed on the address, however, so there are rules to that regard.”

Krymnt nodded, mentally ticking of the checkboxes for the requirements of a delivery. “Seems pretty simple. May I pre-fill several sheets of paper before I arrive at the delivery location? Seems like it would be easier than doing it in front of others.”

He nodded, smiling as if proud that Krymnt thought of this, “Yes, of course. It does make things easier.” He motioned to a shelf, “There are more blank signature pads in there, if you need them and you probably ought to deliver this letter today.” Krymnt nodded, as she eyed the packages in the bins he had indicated, opposite his desk. 

“I am sure you are wondering why we don’t just deliver all of this mail via maike like Bug here.” Krymnt looked back to see that Wrestl was glancing at the dragon on the shelf, who whistled back at them. “Most of the time, this mail is a little heavy for a maike, but more realistically, while they are very reliable, some older institutions and governments don’t quite trust maikes.”

Bug torttled obvious disapproval at this, and Wrestl continued, “Yes indeed. I think it is quite silly myself, but there is always concern that very important mail will be stolen, or waylaid, and at least this way, the sender can always be assured that someone received the certified package, since Maikes are not quite up to carrying around signature pads as well as mail.” He looked back to Krymnt, who was paying dutiful attention, “I do imagine that in the future, maybe within your life-time, most courier services will be replaced with maikes. You might want to learn how to befriend and care for them yourself one day, just because they are so useful.”

Krymnt nodded, “Sounds like it…” she glanced at the packages, most of them in little bundles, “So, think you could mark my map for a few of these locations so I can get started on these today?

After some more time, roughly another hour, she finally had all the locations on the map identified and instructions and short life stories of several people she would meet. She put on the pair of satchels necessary to transport the day’s mail. The satchels were made for Nagaens, and worked much like her saddle-packs that she left in her room. She’d have to make multiple trips back to get mail each day, but for today, it would just take a single load.

Delivering mail was actually surprisingly easy once Krymnt got started. Most of the places she was delivering to were businesses or guilds, places with hours and that would obviously need to have official correspondence. She found the stonemason association and the central town guard barracks, the local merchant’s guild and the city’s tax office- the pair were adversarially placed on opposite sides of the road- and she had a stack of mail for the main city office. She didn’t really expect to meet anyone important, but she did actually get the Lykos city council representative, a black-furred tall wolf of a lady, to sign for her mail directly. Krymnt was interested, nominally, to learn more about how the politics of the city, but the council member was clearly distracted by a mountain of paperwork and so Kyrmnt left her be. 

Krymnt actually got done relatively quickly, and she suspected that Wrestl had given her a large load of mail in the same area, so as to avoid burdening her too greatly on her first day. She didn’t complain. It was convenient, as she hadn’t been excited at the prospect of trying to find out when it would be appropriate to stop trying to deliver mail to homes and businesses as the evening wore on. 

Krymnt returned to the consulate, finding the sun waning lower, just a little above the city walls now. A different guard was on duty, but he barely nodded to her as she entered the consulate. Delfst was at her desk, but an important looking Nagaens was dictating something to her in an authoritative tone, and Krymnt didn’t bother her. 

Wrestl was absent as well, on his desk a note saying he left a little early that day and indicating a time when he’d be back tomorrow. Krymnt carefully noted that time, and unslung the now empty satchels, placing them atop of the full bins of mail she’d be delivering tomorrow, according to Wrestl.

Krymnt slunk out, Delfst still distracted, and Krymnt ready to retire for the day. 

Krymnt got food at that same market place she first entered into, rather than the Nagaens food area. She was wary of people trying to ask her questions and try to find out who she is in the Nagaens part of town. She didn’t really feel like being social any more, a long afternoon of asking for people and making small talk while signatures were written made sure of that. 

Krymnt ate in her room again, feeling like a shut-in, but she couldn’t help herself. She usually was like this, even on Earth, and she felt even less comfortable in her skin in this world, in some ways. 

Idly, she opened the main menu for the game and hoped for a missed message, someone telling her that, no, don’t worry, she was free to leave the game now, and Krymnt, Riariti-Krymnt would be free to live her life again. 

No such luck. She was instead greeted with the message that she leveled up even more, putting her at level eight. She winced, wishing she could stop accumulating experience in this world, just in case that would affect Riariti-Krymnt’s chances of getting back in the game. 

Glancing back at her stats, she saw that mostly her vitality, strength, wisdom, and -surprisingly- her charisma increased the most. She shook her head, not knowing what the numbers meant anyway, so she didn’t bother thinking about it too deeply. Her element was Earth, according to the main page, and her menus were all yellow. She wondered if that had anything to do with what that Fae sorceress said about her aura, and decided it probably did. 

Somewhat curious about what else she could learn, Krymnt opened the “Abilities/Flaws menu” menu. 

Inside the menu, it clearly was broken up into two halves labeled, unsurprisingly, as ‘Abilities’ and ‘Flaws’. 

Underneath ‘Abilities’, she had:

“Snake’s Strength”  
Bonus +100% strength base stat and +25% bonus to strength growth when leveling

“Snake’s Fortitude“  
Bonus +100% vitality base stat and +25% bonus to vitality growth when leveling. 

“Mixed Cultural Heritage”  
May eat omnivorous diet with fewer issues and no poison effects, but there are limits.

“Infravision”  
May see into the infrared, reducing disadvantages at night. Brighter light or heat sources may cause [Blind] effect more easily.

“Scales”  
The Nagaens' skin is covered with a layer of scales that act as armor. +50% to Vitality regardless of what they wear. Effect is nullified when the Nagaens annually sheds their scales until new ones grow in.

“Shedskin”  
Every year, the Nagaens must shed their scales and be without for a few days while a new coat grows in. This may also be triggered if the Nagaens takes severe damage.

And underneath Flaws, she had:

“Poison Allergy”  
Rare allergy for Python Nagaens. Character is allergic to poison, including their own, and takes +100% damage from poison. Other effects are also worse and last longer.

“Grounded”  
Fire and Air Magic do +40% more damage to character. Lightning magic does +100% damage to character. These magics are harder to learn for character.

“Thin Scaled”  
Scales are more flexible and durable, but less protective. Negates the +50% to Vitality effect of "Scales" but less likely to shed as result of severe damage.

“Cold-blooded”  
All stats -50% in cold climates

At first, Krymnt had wondered if she somehow rolled into a powerful character- stolen a powerful body- just looking at the bonuses to Strength and Vitality. That must have been why she survived that first encounter with those bugs, at such a low level. But then, those weaknesses were terribly powerful too. She resolved to be very careful around poison and magic. 

Krymnt sighed, and closed the menu again. That explained all the bite-scars then. Krymnt was poisoned by her own body, an odd condition. She was also incredibly strong and hardy. Given her weaknesses in magic, it’s probably a good thing she didn't bother with magic, clearly her body was made for martial prowess. She kept herself from mulling, for the millionth time, on the Riariti-Krymnt and her lost life by deciding to wander up onto the veranda, the top floor of the hotel, and looking over the canyon on a clear night. 

The multicolored canyon was just as beautiful as it was in the day, but less dazzling. It was probably easier on the eyes because of her infravision, but the shadows and night did prevent her from seeing quite as large a swath of colors. Still, it was lovely, and she enjoyed it for a bit, alone on the roof for about an hour before she finally decided to head back down and go to sleep. 

The next day was easier for her. She had gotten into a morning routine, and while she’d traveled in the Nagaens section of town yesterday, she had bought some soap and other Nagaens related cleaning stuff. It smelled a little arid and spicy but it did the trick, and she figured that Nagaens would have a better idea of what was appropriate to clean scales. 

She went back to the consulate, the sun still rising from the horizon, earlier than she usually went. 

Delfst was at her desk, looking bored with a book in her hands. She sat at a chair that must have been for her specifically, since bipeds were clearly not extremely common in this quarter, and chairs were impractical for most Nagaens. 

She looked up and smiled at Krymnt, “Morning. Starting your runs early?” 

Krymnt nodded, “Yeah, I like to get things done early rather than have them hanging over me.” She glanced at Wrestl’s door, which was closed. “Will I be able to get the mail for delivery or should I wait for Wrestl?”

Delfst shook her head, “No, I have a key and he told me to let you in when you needed.” She stood, and pulled a drawer out to grab a key. 

Krymnt then noticed that Delfst had on a particularly beautiful aqua dress today. Krymnt had noticed it before, but it didn’t strike her so much until Delfst stood up. 

The aqua dress was just off color to Delfst’s blue skin that the contrast was startling. The dress was somewhat slinky, running to her knees and showing off her figure distinctly. It even had an impressive set of diamond shaped cutouts around her abdomen, showing off her back, sides and, yes, her belly. She wore sandals with it, and her dark brown hair was tied back to show off more of her shoulders. 

Quite frankly, Delfst’ dress was downright modest compared to what Krymnt had seen of the Nagaens, or even of what she showed of herself on a day to day basis. However, the contrast after being used to seeing more simple designs was stunning. 

Krymnt generally spent little time assigning beauty features to others, unless something shook her out of her reverie. People were ‘cute’, or ‘sharp’, or ‘angular-pretty’ or any number of any other adjectives, but she never spent much time breaking down features unless she was in the right mood. 

Delfst was certainly lovely, yes. Krymnt had pegged her, unthinkingly, as “wry-sultry” yesterday in her blouse and skirts, and then Krymnt stopped thinking about it like she did with most appearances. She wasn’t going to engage in any sort of… activity while as Krymnt, and even in the real world, she didn’t flirt well, or often. 

Krymnt wasn’t even sure she wanted to flirt, even if she wanted to stay in this body. It would be unsettling with a Riaritan, someone she'd not see for weeks at a time. But she wished desperately that she could compliment Delfst’s outfit without it coming off as flirting. 

Delfst unlocked the door, and Krymnt smiled at her returned grin and mock bow. “Thanks, appreciate it. I will make sure you are here to lock it when I am done.” 

She waved off the comment, “Don’t worry about it. As long as someone is here to watch, it will be fine unlocked.”

Krymnt shrugged, “Well, sure, but I will need to come back by anyway. I need someone to give me a good idea of address locations, and I do want to get started before noon so I can’t wait for Wrestl to describe the entire city.”

She laughed and started back towards her desk saying, “True enough.”

Krymnt gestured assent, keeping herself from staring at Delfst’s retreating figure by looking at the walls, covered in stone motifs. She did not want to be caught staring. How awkward would that be? 

Krymnt entered the office and went to the bins. Sheesh, if she got caught staring at Delfst like a-... Wait, Krymnt was a woman, of course. They both were. She was being stupid. Of course she could just compliment Delfst’s outfit and it wouldn’t have any poor connotations or awkward implications. 

Pleased at realizing the fact of the matter, Krymnt began grabbing packages, using the signature pad to record addresses and apply her eal at the same time. She loaded up two full packs in quick order and went back to the front desk, closing Wrestl’s office. She did pause a moment to realize that she did most of that work in the dark, apparently unhindered.

Delfst was back at her desk, reading her book again. “Obviously, diplomacy is a hard job. If this is what they give to the apprentices to keep them busy.” She’d already been putting down her book, but Delfst gave her a mock hurt look. 

“This is important work, you know. If I don’t finish this novel by noon, then I can’t use lunch to buy the sequel!” Krymnt laughed, and put her map and the signature pad, addresses imprinted into their pages. 

Delfst went through the addresses with her quickly and efficiently, giving small circles to contrast with the x’s from yesterday, so that Krymnt would be able to keep track. It was quick and easy, as Krymnt stood quietly and listened as Delfst described a few tricky locations. 

When she was finished, Krymnt gave a heartfelt smile, “Thanks, I really do appreciate the help.

Delfst waved her off, “Don’t even worry. See you again later for your next load.” 

Krymnt nodded, but paused before turning away completely, saying, “Oh, by the way, that dress is gorgeous on you. I love the pattern and cut.” Krymnt smiled, keeping her face as polite and kind and neutral as she could. She knew that the politics between women could be rather difficult, so she wanted to avoid any misunderstanding. And if she said anything accidentally embarrassing, she was leaving the office so it would be hours before she had to face Delfst again. 

Delfst gave another one of her broad grins, “Thanks! My cousin designed it for me.” 

Krymnt nodded again, and said, “Well, it suits you perfectly. See ya in a bit.” Krymnt left before she could accidentally say anything actually embarrassing and tried very hard not to think about any failings on her own part in the conversation any more. 

Krymnt delivered the mail around town, learning more of the layout. She found the small Trow butcher shop, almost hidden behind the western guard house. She found out that Crescent Valley did have a newspaper, printed weekly, and where their office and printing press were. She visited the Mayor’s again, and then the main guard house for Crescent Valley. She found the temple district and delivered several letters to different priestess or their attendants. Her last trip took her outside the city walls, to a couple that managed a stable of lizard-like mounts.

She made it back to town in time for lunch, and she ate something quick and easy from her trusty marketplace. She accidentally caught the eye of the same Lykos/Yokai hybrid who helped her on the first day at the Scrying Glass stand and nodded to him in passing.

Krymnt went back to the consulate. Delfst wasn’t there, but Wrestle was. She greeted him and talked to him some as she set up for her next run. She was starting to recognize most of the streets, and only asked Wrestle about a couple addresses. 

Bug, the little dragonling, liked to jump from box to box before she picked them up, and Wrestl talked. 

When she got to a strange oblong package, she scowled suddenly almost tempted to put it back to get another day. Any other day. Unfortunately, it would just be waiting for her tomorrow if she didn’t do it today. 

Wrestl saw her holding the oblong package, about the size of a shoebox if it were shaped like an egg, if it were big twice as big as an ostrich's egg and clearly made of wood and covered in some sort of tinsel and said, “Oh, that must be Qix’s monthly delivery of reagents that she gets from the sorcery guild subscription service. She’s a Fae-Trow hybrid, but favors her Fae. She doesn’t have any fur, but her skin is all black like the Trow under that fur. She can be found on the north side-” 

“Yep, I’ve met her. I know where she is.” Krymnt quickly imprinted yet another page, and tried to move to the next topic quickly, “I probably ought to have asked, but how much should I expect to get paid for these deliveries a day?” 

Wrestl blinked, surprised at the sudden interruption but continued. She didn’t care if he was suspicious, she didn’t want to talk about Qix with Wrestl, even if her embarrassing visit wasn’t the topic. Wrestle answered, “Well, normally you’d earn around one silver for every four packages, but because you are sparing me a lot of pain in the tail, literally, and my apprentice would otherwise earn it along with experience for growing into my role. Since you don’t get the same credits he does within the guild, I was going to pay you one silver every three packages.” 

Krymnt felt that sounded a little high. She was literally just delivering mail, and while getting signatures was a hassle, some of these deliveries were multiple at a time. A single meal cost coppers. 

Still, she figured that at least she could pay herself back for renting an expensive hotel and maybe make a little back for her time in the game. 

Krymnt tried hard to ignore the burning in her stomach, trying not to sink back into that dread of being unable to actually give this body back to the native Riaritian it belonged to. 

Krymnt left again, nodding to the friendly Delfst, but the Sleeper was unwilling to get into another conversation. She just wanted to work, to get things done, and end her social interactions for the day. 

Even so, delivering mail wasn’t so hard. She delivered stuff pretty deliberately, avoiding the ovoid package for Qix. Frankly, she finished a little too early for her tastes, wishing she could save Qix’s for tomorrow morning or something. No such luck. She finished before the sun fell. 

Krymnt sighed. Unfortunately, she’d have to go with plan B.


	9. Plot Progression

Plan B involved getting dinner, as well as being rude. But that would be later. 

First, Krymnt got dinner. Usual market, usual food, something mostly meat and something relatively easy to eat without extra silverware. She also bought a scroll with the local newspaper on it and book at a small stand that was run by a Nagaens guy who looked like he might start flirting with her if she stuck around. She did not.

Krymnt didn't eat the food, deliberately getting something that would probably taste just as well cold as warm. She suspected she'd be eating it cold.

Dinner under one arm, Krymnt went to deliver the last package at Qix’s home-slash-magic shop. Her home was just as brightly painted and out of place as before. Krymnt really did hope that Qix was busy. Sure, Krymnt could come tomorrow regardless, but then the large egg shaped package would be hanging over her like an obligation guillotine. 

She made up the steps- Krymnt had gotten a little better at navigating steps in the past few days, and these were fortunately short- to the wizard’s home and knocked once again. 

She had been expecting to see the scroll again, unfurling to explain if Qix was busy or not. It did not appear at once. Krymnt was just in the beginning processes of puzzling out why this might happen when the door opened to reveal the short and dark-skinned Qix again, saying as the door opened a short and simple, “Hello.” 

Krymnt noted that Qix’s expression was somewhere between reserved and concerned. The courier forged on regardless, “Hello. I am Krymnt, a courier for the First Western Riaritian Courier Guild. I am here to deliver a package to you. Would you mind signing this form in order to receive your delivery?” Krymnt held out the signature pad in the same arm that held her lunch under her elbow, while her other arm clearly displayed the large egg shaped package. 

It was a little heavy, no more than forty pounds. She would have never been able to so cavalierly lift the item in real-life, but in the game it was just a little discomfort of something resting on the unseen boundaries of her ‘casual strength range’, like trying to hold out a bag of groceries that was just a little too heavy for it to be easy. 

Krymnt was trying to keep her awkward distaste off her face, but instead she was pretty certain that her visage must have conveyed some sort of stony anger, as Qix didn’t answer immediately, adjusting her glasses to stare at Krymnt a little longer as if uncertain if the nagaens were the same person that had come by two days earlier. 

“Krymnt? Did... you take over for Hahrat?” 

Hahrat was the Nagaens apprentice to Wrestl who was on a month long break. 

Krymnt offered a thin gap in her expression to show a small upturn of her lips. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it would do. “For a few days, while I have time.” 

Qix nodded, taking off her glasses, and tucking them into the wasteband of her skirts. She was wearing a different vest, but the same legionnaires skirt, or one that looked nearly the same. Her small but authoritative voice answered, “Huh, I had no idea you were a courier… Those donuts were good, I couldn’t eat them all in one sitting.” She seemed to be trying very hard to be polite. It was a shame that Krymnt didn’t want to be here, in this conversation. 

“I am glad. I believe the package is from Mystic Gatherings Monthly. I have a quill, if you don’t have one.”

Qix laughed at this, clearly realizing that this wasn’t going to be a social visit, “Ha, you win. I understand Krymnt. No, I have a pen.” She reached into air, her hand disappearing, before it returned to normal space, an inkwell pen clutched in her hand, materializing from air, magical lines fading from its edges. “I am guessing that you aren’t interested in learning magic anymore then?” she asked as she pulled the pad from Krymnt’s hand. 

The Sleeper shook her head, “No.” A pause, and Krymnt added, “You weren’t trying to scare me off, I know, but I appreciate it all the same. I don’t have a place learning magic.” She took back the signature pad. 

Qix looked rather sad at that, as she shook her head, “You have as much a place as any Riaritian.” Krymnt winced, and worse, Qix noticed. “You sure you don’t want to stay for a little while? I could put on some tea and I have some candied jerky you might enjoy.” 

Krymnt motioned to the package under her arm. “Already have dinner waiting, actually.” 

Qix looked at the package, smiling at something, before motioning with her hand at the egg-package and muttering something under her breath. A gust of wind came up, and the package left Krymnt’s hand. It levitated as Qix bowed politely, “I see. Well, I don’t want to keep you from your meal, do I? It was good to see you again, Krymnt, courier of the First Western Riaritian Courier Guild. Come back if you decide to change your mind about magic, alright?”

Krymnt bowed back, glad to have the weight off her hand, and said, “If I find myself interested in magic again, I’ll be sure to think of you before all else, Wizard Qix. Have a wonderful day. ” Krymnt may not be a mamba, but her words could drip poison all the same. 

Qix, very sharp, caught onto it too, and smiled sadly. “You as well. Fate watch over you.” 

Krymnt had turned away at that, keeping her face unresponsive to the comment about ‘Fate’. Fate, that same supposed deity of Sleepers. Maybe it was a common saying, but she didn’t like it, all the same.   
Krymnt went back to her hotel room, and ate in silence. She wrote another journal log for her other self, the original owner of this body. Krymnt was still determined to return this stolen body, and these notes hopefully might help their owner. She’d written a journal every evening, looking it over and refraining from apologizing more often than she needed to in the letter. 

She sighed, and looked through the news-scroll again, trying to break some sort of immersion barrier. She wanted to see something that was… unreal. Something that would break her suspension of disbelief. In a perfect world, the scrawl under the headlines would be illegible, sort of a filler such that only NPCs could really read and “experience” it. She’d even be happy with a joke that obliquely referenced the real world, like a parody of a real event. A single thread of nuance for Krymnt to tug at and pull apart the curtain. But the world was too real, too consistent still. 

Krymnt sighed, and decided to head to bed, early again, because she had nothing she wanted to do. Not while she was still Krymnt, at least. She lay awake wondering if she just ought to log out now. But what if they fixed everything and needed her available to make the transfer but she was still sleeping? 

Krymnt was not so optimistic, not realistically. At this point, she assumed the worst, that Riariti-Krymnt was killed, her personality deleted, to make room for her, Earth-Krymnt, to make room for some interloper to steal her body. 

She didn’t know quite yet what she would do if that were the case. Should she never play again? What did people who accidentally killed other people do? Like, if she had killed a person with a forklift, would the best choice be to never again use a forklift? Should she spend her time preaching the dangers of forklifts? 

Surely most people just felt terrible, dealt with some minor stress disorder and, assuming they didn’t get punished for negligence… just went back to their old work. 

It felt like dirty rationalizing to her. She hadn’t decided what she would do yet, but just pretending nothing happened would be among the worst. 

She went to bed, wondering how crazy she’d look, standing in front of a game store demanding people not play the game. 

The next day, more deliveries. This day had a few of them that sent her into the temple district. 

While she was there, she did take a look at the small, but prominent temple for the Goddess of Fate. The goddess of Sleepers weighed heavily upon her.

The goddess was a woman with a halo in robely garb, vaguely reminiscent of Catholic stylings on the front, while sprouting from her back were the remnants of what looked like bat or dragon wings, without the webbing between. A but macabre to Krymnt, but she wasn’t going to criticize. The goddess was carved from all one piece of radiant white stone, and appeared to be masterfully done, the woman with only eyes on her face and well over ten feet tall, with a large base pedestal raising her well above the crowd. 

Krymnt did not approach, but watched, under the guise of getting water from a nearby pump. Several other Sleepers -they could be nothing else given how loud and boisterous they were compared to the normal residents of Riariti- approached the shrine and seemed to take turns touching it. One person shouted “Respawn point!” before running over to hug the statue of Fate. 

The other players that Krymnt had noticed in the area looked at the person who had shouted with a little disdain. Perhaps it was considered rude to break immersion in Riariti, as the Kassilik family had implied when she first entered the game less than a week ago, less than seven hours ago. 

She sighed and shook her head, drinking from the waterskin she’d just filled up and moving out of the way for anyone else. 

“Don’t let them bother you, miss.” 

A voice spoke, only a few paces away from the steps of another temple, a small one, made from a reddish-brown temple. Krymnt flinch slithered away an inch, much to the surprise and consternation of the speaker, “Oh I am sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

He was a kindly looking older fellow with small white wings on his back, just like the woman who ran the Overlook Inn. He was wearing a brown and red vest that matched the building he stood before, but most of his clothing was plain, undyed, and desperately un-flashy. 

Krymt was probably being uncharitable and chastised herself for being rude in her head as she answered, “Ah, no. No worry. I’m ju- I just startle easily.” She caught herself before saying she was ‘jumpy’, which would no doubt be an impressive feat for a startled Nagaens. 

He nodded, “Perfectly understandable. But don’t let the Sleepers keep you from paying respects to Fate. Even if they are her chosen, She guides us all, not just the Sleepers.” 

Krymnt looked back at the statue of Fate, several of the people filtering away, and she wondered if she ought to do the same, in case the worst should happen. She hadn’t marked herself at a spawn point yet. If she died, where would her body return to? The middle of nowhere? She shook her head, but answered the priest, “Thanks. It won’t be them that prevents me from paying my respects.” The last line was supposed to be relatively neutral, but it came off almost dry. 

The Aethen, if Krymnt remembered correctly, was young, and had a warm friendly face. He pulled something from a pouch, a small icon of a heart with a single wing on the left side. “Fate works mysteriously and her way can be heavy. And unfortunately, She doesn’t provide a guide.” His expression was sympathetic, and Krymnt could see that he must have thought she was in need of some sort of guidance as he offered the icon to her. “Here- please take this as a humble token of comfort in the name of Aelovis, and His mercy and compassion.” 

Krymnt smiled politely immediately, shaking her head, “No no. I am fine. I do appreciate it though. Someone else likely needs far more than I, really.” 

He continued to offer the icon, “Please, I have more and everyone deserves peace and mercy.” 

Krymnt already had her free hand snaking to a pouch on the side of her backpack and pulled a coin from it. From its weight, she guessed it was a silver, “Yes, but some need peace and mercy far more. You’d probably do better to spread it to people who deserve it. ” She put the coin into his offered hand and left the icon behind. 

There were a few others she saw in the robes of Aelovis. Almost all of them were Aethen. Maybe it was the Aethen god. She remembered that her mother in this world was an Aethen. Hopefully she would appreciate it as a small offering to Krymnt’s lost time. 

This Krymnt wasn’t ready to give up the idea that she could give this body back, so the offering wasn’t in her memory. Not yet. 

The priest, or acolyte, or whoever he was, started to respond, but Krymnt bowed her head, “Aelovis and his followers will surely be able use that better than I will. Have a good day,” before she started to move away. 

He seemed about to argue, but didn’t and instead said in her wake, “May the Gods and Goddesses bless you, miss. Have a good day.” He sounded a little amused, a little sad. 

Krymnt didn’t offer a look back at either him nor the pale statue of Fate as she continued her deliveries for the day. 

\---  
Her favorite novel was filled with great lines, but her favorite went something like ‘Events were cowards, and they always ran in packs.’

It had already been a long day, and it was only just after lunch on her last full day doing deliveries. Visiting the temple district was only scarce hour ago at this point. 

In the real world, she expected the get seven and a half hours of sleep tonight, before her alarm went off. Every hour on Earth was a day in Magience. 

Today was day six. She’d give half a day tomorrow for deliveries, and then spend a day trying to relax, and put things in order for her log-off, hoping someone would answer her questions. 

She entered the consulate and saw that Delfst was at her station, but she was distracted by another important looking Nagaens, talking to them about a scroll on the table top, so Krymnt passed the desk without bothering them. 

Wrestl wasn’t in his office either. She learned that he was often in and out, attending business in the next room and arranging communications with a couple of the other courier guild offices in the town.

It was fine by her. By now, Krymnt was comfortable with the town layout. Being in Magience was a lot like being in the real world. Filled with minor frustrations, filled with a lot of mindless work, satisfying occasionally but not particularly fulfilling. 

That last one was mostly her own fault, and the frustrations were definitely her own. 

Krymnt finished grabbing packages for the evening deliveries and started to leave when Delfst motioned her over, no longer busy with someone else. 

Krymnt did so, smiling friendly at Delfst, “Hey, how are you doing?” 

Delfst smilled herself, and answered, “Not bad. How’re your delivering going?”

The courier shrugged, “Alright. Last evening load for me before I retire. Wish me luck.” 

Delfst hesitated, “Actually… I was wondering if you might be interested in dinner tonight? I know a good place not far from here that’s got room enough for Nagaens to dine in.” 

Krymnt struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. She wasn’t quite sure what was going on- she was suspicious that this might be a date- but this wasn’t what she wanted, nor needed right now. She took a moment, gathering her breath to say something when Delfst, looking chagrined, put her hands up and waved her off, “No, no, it's okay, I didn’t mean to bother you. I didn’t mean to make this awkward. Don’t worry, forget about it completely.” 

Krymnt wondered if something showed on her face, but, while it wouldn’t help, she didn’t want leave it at that, saying, “I- Sorry, Delfst. It's not you. Its... I’m… going through some… emotional stuff right now and I shouldn’t be… I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

Deflst smiled, either brave or faking it, “No worries at all. Really.” 

Krymnt wanted to explain herself, but that would mean explaining all of it. She smiled back, hating herself, trying not to hang her head before leaving Delfst’s sight. She hated this game. Not much more than she hated real life, but all the same.

Krymnt did her deliveries for the day, slowly. She went to the inn. She slept in, after writing a tearful, self-hating letter to herself. 

Krymnt woke up late the next day, not resting well, not sure she wanted to face the world todayl. Krymnt eventually rolled out of bed, and got breakfast and went to the Nagaens consulate. It was a little later in the morning than usual, the sun already brightening the sky.

The same guard she remembered being outside the gates her first day was there again. Bronze with green and blue markings. She nodded to him, having seen him a few times. He did not nod back, uncharacteristic of him.

Krymnt, usually quick to assume the worst in the situation, wondered if somehow everyone learned of her turning down Delfst and hated her for it. Hated her for daring to be so rude to one of their own, and now everyone hated her. 

After years of living, Krymnt figured she would have learned to dismiss her own instant fears of the worst. They’d never come true before. Why would they come true now? She shook off her worries and went inside. 

Delfst wasn’t at her desk. Maybe she’d been so shamed yesterday that she couldn’t face work. Maybe she killed herself because Krymnt had been so cruel. That wasn’t it. Everything was setting her off this morning was all. The sick feeling at the back of her mind was just her own imagination getting to her.

Krymnt shivered. She hated this, but plowed forward towards Postmaster Wrestl’s office. He appeared to be in today, his door was open and the light was on. 

She came to the door and smiled, a little frightened that the world had turned against her during the night, and knocked on the door sill. “Morning Wrestl. How are you doing?”

The older Nagaens turned and looked at her, his face oddly frozen but pleasant. “Good Morning. Welcome to the Nagaens Consulate and the First Western Riaritan Courier’s Guild Headquarters. I am Postmaster Wrestl. How may I help you?” 

Krymnt’s heart stopped for a moment, wondering if he was pretending not to know her. Were her fears correct? Did everyone hate her? But that didn’t seem like Wrestl’s personality. She swallowed, “Um. Did… I’m here to deliver more packages?” That sick feeling grew, and she gripped the door sill harder than she might otherwise. 

Where was Bug at? Delivering things?

A slightly puzzled look on his face, still strangely wooden, and Wrestl answered, “I am sorry, I don’t have any packages for you that I am aware of. Maybe try again later.” 

Krymnt shook her own head. That wasn’t right. She definitely had a few more to pick up today. The feeling grew, redoubled. Krymnt didn’t think that the world had turned to hate her, something else, something wronger was going on. Why was Wrestl was acting so strange? His eyes weren’t focusing right, like he was staring through her, not at her.

“Um, Wrestl, is something wrong? Did I do something?” She crept a little further into the room, concerned and exceedingly confused. 

His face morphed into an uncanny mirror of his previous pleasant face, “Good Morning. Welcome to the Nagaens Consulate and the First Western Riaritan Courier’s Guild Headquarters. I am Postmaster Wrestl. How may I help you?” 

Krymnt gasped for air in the middle of his comment, but he didn’t pause. “Wrestl, are you okay? Are you- are you sick?”

She moved forward to touch his hand, resting on his desk, and he didn’t not move but his face, which frowned into a sickeningly familiar expression, “I am sorry, I don’t have any packages for you that I am aware of. Maybe try again later.”

Krymnt felt the world tip under her as she tried not to panic. Why was he acting like an NPC all of a sudden? What was going on? His hand was cool to the touch, not uncommon for a Nagaens, but he did not react. 

Hell, did the game suddenly glitch? Is Magience on the fritz? What the hell was going on here? She pulled up the system menu and immediately activated the ‘Help’ menu. In full crisis mode, Krymnt always became coldly efficient in real life. It was like the same cold fervor that took her when those dune-hivers attacked the caravan.

That helpful glowing little fairy appeared, “Hello, Krymnt, how may I assist you today?”

“A perso- an NPC is acting strange, he keeps repeating the same phrase again and again. I think the game glitched.” To the side, she could hear Wrestl speak again, but it was faint and distant past the pounding of her heart.

“Good Morning. Welcome to the Nagaens Consulate and the First Western Riaritan Courier’s Guild Headquarters. I am Postmaster Wrestl. How may I help you?” 

The fairy floated in a circle and shifted colors, thinking. While Krymnt scanned the room for more clues, trying to figure out if the glitch was just one person or if it affected the area.

Her breath left her slowly as her eyes latched onto something that was on Wrestl’s tail just behind him.   
She barely heard the voice of the fairy to the side, “I am sorry, I do not have anything in my database that matches that description. Would you like to write a system ticket?”

Resting on Wrestl’s loosely coiled tail behind him, was Bug. 

“I am sorry, I don’t have any...” Wrestl droned on, as oblivious as the help fairy.

That little electric blue dragon was unmoving. Its wings were bent at odd angles. Its neck was twisted so far around that its skin was torn, its blood draining from a small oozing wound, barely staining Wrestl’s scales.


	10. Expostion

“Good Morning. Welcome to the Nagaens Consulate and the First Western Riaritan Courier’s Guild Headquarters. I am Postmaster Wrestl. How may I help you?”

Krymnt ignored the prompt for now, her heart racing as she tried to figure out what was going on. Panicked moments, quickly bred into seizing action, “Help fairy, can you get a message to Essefy, the ah, character assistant that goes by Essefy? I think he name starts with SFH something.”

The fairy orbited in a circle as Krymnt approached the postmaster, tentatively reaching out to touch him, and see if Bug, the little bright blue Maike was still alive. 

“I am sorry, I don’t have any packages for you that I am aware of. Maybe try again later.” 

The little thing was not alive, or else there was no way Krymnt could do anything for it by moving it. She pulled away again, her touch yielding no response at all from the Postmaster but the usual prompt. 

“Yes, Creative Assistant identified. I can send her a message now.”

Krymnt had to figure out whether or not this was “glitch” so to speak, or something else. NPCs in real games did this boring repetitive responses, but not in Magience. But the murder of the little messenger dragon implies this wasn’t some ordinary glitch. “Tell her that I need to talk to her as soon as possible. I think there may be a major bug in the game. I don’t know what is going on.” 

“Message composed. Is there anything else I can do to help?” 

“No.” If she could shift from foot to foot, she would have, but Krymnt she was trapped without feet. The fairy disappeared, and Krymnt’s mind spun, trying to figure out what she should do. If this was a game glitch, should she bring it up to others? What was this, if it wasn’t a glitch?

Magic? Mind Magic was seriously illegal, according to Qix. But then, so was killing a Maike. Fuck, Krymnt strangled the air for a few minutes longer, before leaving the room, heading back to the front of the consulate. The guard there should be able to call more people. Something was seriously wrong, and immersion wasn’t as important as getting help for Wrestl, magic or glitches be the cause.

She came up to him saying, “Sir, something is wrong I need your help.” 

“Halt, this is the Nagaens Consulate. Authorized personnel only.” His voice was authoritative and a little quizical, as if not expecting to see someone. He didn’t look at Krymnt.

Krymnt recoiled, realizing that there was a reason he hadn’t acknowledged her this morning. Another person was NPC’d. Nearly panicked she turned to another person on the street, a young looking Nagaens who was rubbing sleep from their eyes, “Hey! Can you hear me?”

The kid looked up, confused, “Anything supposed to stop me?”

Krymnt heaved a held breath, “Oh thank god. Kid, could you get the town guard, I don’t- I have no idea where they’d be.” 

The kid didn’t look like he quite believed her, “What’s going on? I’m going to be late.” 

Krymnt shook her head, “People aren’t- listen, talk to this guard. I need to find a healer.” 

The kid seemed to think she was a little crazy, as he said, “Hey Clest, you alright?”

“Halt, this is the Nagaens Consulate. Authorized personnel only.” 

The kid looked confused, moving up to the guard, and glancing at Krymnt. “Clest?” He waved his hands in front of the guard, “Clest, what’s going on?”

“Halt, this is the Nagaens Consulate. Authorized personnel only.” 

No reaction. The kid started to shake Clest’s arm, but Krymnt shook her head. “There’s… there’s someone else like this. Just go get the guards? I will watch him.”

The kid looked confused, not having quite the same fear filled reaction that Krymnt had, but her panic seemed to finally reach him. He scurried off, and Krymnt followed him halfway into the street, watching him move back down the street. It was still early, so there were only a few people moving up and down the street.

The warehouse’s doors were wide open, and no one was loading or unloading. 

\---

Krymnt didn’t investigate the warehouse. She left that to the city and consulate guards. Apparently someone inside the consulate, of which, Krymnt had only been in the lobby and the post office, saw her standing in the streets, looking concerned, and sent another guard down to investigate. The entire courtyard as well as the lobby and warehouse, were being combed over now. They found the dead bodies of five mercenaries inside the warehouse, hidden in a gloomy corner. 

They had Krymnt sitting in the corner of the courtyard, ostensibly being cared for by both a town guard and a consulate guard, but she was half certain they thought she might be responsible. A non-local and all. She’d still tried to help as much as she could. 

They ended up carrying Clest away, into the consulate, presumably somewhere private, after a priest came by and checked him out. Everyone seemed worried, but not confused, by the behavior of the guard. Krymnt was pretty sure she heard someone mutter something about mind magic.

Krymnt just kept her arm crossed and coils tight, feeling exposed, even though no one had outright accused her of anything. They’d asked her a bunch of questions, and she answered.

They didn’t let her leave, however. 

When Krymnt saw Qiz, blue hair tousled and vest wrinkled, leave the consulate, Krymnt wondered if they’d found anything else. Krymnt hadn’t seen the dark fae enter the consulate, but there had to be more than one entrance, and Krymnt had been distracted. 

Qix was followed by one Nagaens guard and a stout Lykos town guard in better than usual armor, apparently the consulate didn’t want unescorted civillians wandering around right now, but when the fae saw Krymnt in the corner, Qix diverted her path towards Krymnt. The gem in Qix’s forehead looked more reddish than white in the sun’s light. 

Krymnt didn’t have any idea what to say when the guards came. When they asked if she’d done anything, she explained everything that happened. She probably rambled a little more than she needed to, but she’d been nervous. That probably hadn’t done much good for those people looking for someone to blame. Isn’t that how cop dramas went? The person who wouldn’t shut up was the most guilty? She eventually convinced herself to be quiet, more or less, when the guards had found the five mercenaries. 

She wasn’t responsible for any of this. Just relax, she told herself. 

So when Qix approached, Krymnt didn’t say anything. 

The Fae/Trow hybrid paused, her glasses revealing the aura of everyone involved to the fae, “Krymnt.”

“Yes?” She held her arms closed about her, mostly to keep from chewing on her knuckle. It hurt, and wouldn’t help here. 

“Could you tell Head Captain Whitetail,” Qix motioned to the Lykos town guard, “and Security Grivln,” the guard was smaller than most of the Nagaens Krymnt had seen, by far, and all black with bright blue eyes, “and I what happened? I know you explained it to others, but I’d like to hear it from you.” 

Kymnt nodded, not surprised at the question. “Sure. I was coming in to complete the last of my deliveries, I was planning for today to be my last, so I came in early. I hadn’t been sure if either Delfst or Wrestl would be here. I walked-er, moved past the guard, Clest. I nodded to him, but he didn’t acknowledge me. I went in anyway, figuring he wasn’t paying attention or something.” Krymnt paused, not sure if she should go into more detail anywhere, but Qix just motioned for her to continue. “I saw that the Postmaster was in, so I went inside and greeted him. He answered me with the, ah, stock phrase, greeting me and telling me that he was the Postmaster. Confused, I asked him further, and he told me I didn’t have any packages.” 

Krymnt shook her head, “He kept repeating those two phrases, with the same expressions for each, and I approached, to ah, touch him. He didn’t react differently, and then I saw Bug. Um, his Maike.  I went out to get the guard, but then I realized that Clest was the same way. If you talk to him or engage him, he says the same thing again and again. So thats when I asked the kid-”

“Elmnd,” Grivln said, hissed even. He seemed tense, but not hostile, his eyes watching other people as they gawked or passed by. “Kid’s name is Elmnd.”

“Yeah. I asked him to get the guard, and the Consulate must have seen me outside, and sent their own guards. I saw the warehouse was open at this time, but didn’t investigate.” This time, Krymnt managed not to ramble too long. Short, not sweet, but complete. 

Qix nodded, “Makes sense.” She turned to the guard at her side, “I can’t cast a truth spell to check out her honesty. I know her. You’ll have to wait for an official investigator to get here to check her out.” 

Whitetail, who was covered completely with brown fur, even his tail, agreed, “Appreciate your help anyway, Qix. Hurrok should be back in town next week to help.” He had the tone of someone in charge, and his uniform was duly more authoritative. Even so, there didn’t seem to be much friction between him and Security Grivln. His eyes stayed on Krymnt, but he didn’t seem suspicious. Krymnt suspected he was acting however.

Qix must have noticed as well, “For what it's worth, I will vouch for her. Krymnt has been in town for two weeks, delivering letters and items across the town. And she doesn’t know the magic. She came by to learn from me at one point.”

“You turned her down?” 

“Not quite,” Qix hedged, “It just hadn’t been a good time.” 

“Not for me either, actually.” Krymnt didn’t meet Qix’s eyes “I was mostly curious, not looking to dig deep.” 

“Hmm,” the wolven man seemed to take this at face value for now. “Qix, when can you work to help the pair of them? You have the most experience with this sort of thing.”

“I wish I could do more right now,” Qix sighed. “The impact of the magic on Wrestle and Clest, I can’t do anything until their minds settle. The magic still swirls, enforcing the mindspell. I’ll need to prepare some things, and see about trying during nightfall, when Lurien watches over those that are sleeping and sleepless. A legendary artifact did this to them, not just a skilled sorcerer.” 

Krymnt wondered if Lurien was one of the deities, but didn’t ask, as the others seemed to understand. Grivln hissed, “Krymnt, we’d like for you to stay in town for the next couple of weeks while we wait for Hurrok to come back. I would be happy to stand is as your Nagaens witness to ensure none of the truth magic is improperly used.” 

He said this last part as if it would be significant to Krymnt, like people were opposed to truth magic usually and he wanted to assuage her fears.  Krymnt was more worried about what she needed to admit to next. 

“Actually…” she started, “I was… will be, um, out of town for a, um, couple weeks, starting sometime tomorrow. I… its unavoidable. But I promise to come back as soon as I can, if I can.”

Krymnt felt both of the guard, one for the town, and one of the Nagaens, and she looked down, unable to face their intense looks, “Sorry. I can’t stay. I… I’m a- I have to lo-... um, do something… for a couple weeks. Sorry. I can’t, I don’t...  I don’t… I promise to check in with you as soon as I return, if it is me still. I don-”

Qix reached a hand out and touched one of Kyrmnt’s crossed arms.  The imposter in Krymnt’s body realized that she’d shrunk down in her guilt and worry, and had crossed her arms, looking straight down. 

“It’s alright, Krymnt. We hadn’t meant to impose any sort of restrictions on you.” It was the Lykos, Whitetail, speaking, “You are, of course, free to go for now. Just the next time you and Hurrok are in town, we’d like to look into this matter further, for complete records. With Qix’s assurance of your character, it is mostly just routine, given the severity of the crime. You are not standing accused of anything.” 

Qix patted Krymnt’s arm, “Mind staying a little longer? I have to look into a few more things, but I’d like to talk to you about a few things after this.” 

Krymnt nodded, “Sure… I’ll be nearby.” Krymnt had never been good at idle waiting, but she didn’t have anything else, and was too nervous to go find something else to do in this world. In this game, she reminded herself, though she wasn’t sure she believed that anymore. 

\---

Krymnt found herself in Qix’s home, surrounded again by books. She’d followed the small fae into her home, following the investigation at the little fae/trow’s request. Krymnt wasn’t sure why she was here, exactly, but Qix had vouched for her and Krymnt may have felt a little guilty for being so rude with the delivery a few days before too. 

“Have a seat or coil anywhere,” the small wizard said lightly, as she leapt into the same armchair she had when Krymnt first visited. 

Krymnt moved to spool around a chair nearer Qix’s head, further into the room so she wouldn’t be seen staring at the slightly exposed wizard. 

“Thanks. For vouching for me.”

The fae sat up in her chair to look over at Krymnt, an enigmatic smile on her face, “I know you didn’t do it, not in your character. You’d be far likely to hurt yourself than someone else like that.” Her eyes flicked away, back towards the Nagaens portion of town. “Hopefully they will be okay. I will visit them to night, but often trying to fix this sort of thing too quickly...” Qix shook her head. 

Krymnt was worried about the postmaster, not sure how easy this would be to fix. “Did you mean it when you said you thought a legendary artifact was involved with the assault?” 

Qix looked at Krymnt, who was staring at the wall of books, well away from Qix herself. “Yes. The work done was brutal, quick and with too much power. And the area reeked of mana. It was like someone had decided to use a fireball spell to light a candle.”

“Mmm.” That pretty much confirmed what Krymnt had heard from Essefy, when the Creative Assistant appeared when Krymnt was alone in the bathroom after leaving the Consulate. Essefy said she couldn’t help, and that it wasn’t a glitch, despite how it looked to the Sleeper. Essefy couldn’t help any further, and Krymnt had apologized for wasting poor Creative Assistant’s time. 

“Going to seek out the legends? I think I know which artifact it is, it's part of what drew me to the area in the first place.”

Startled, Krymnt looked back at Qix. The blue haired fae was resting her head on her hands, elbows on the armrest, “No, definitely not. Why would you ask?” 

Qix gestured. “Oh, it's just like Sleepers to get excited at the prospect of a legendary artifact.”

Krymnt winced, not wholly comfortable with the moniker, as true as it was. “How… how obviously am I a Sleeper?” Krymnt used her embarassment to look away again. 

“Ha. I frankly expect any non-Cresent Valley local looking to learn magic to be a Sleeper, anymore. You didn’t give yourself away until you explained that you aren’t too familiar with the basics of magic. Courier though you may be, but a Nagaens completely unfamiliar with magic?” She shook her head, “Not common. Less common than Sleepers. And as for why you might be gone for a couple weeks...”

“Sorry.”

Qix shifted in her seat - apparently unable to sit still - as she moved to sit on the arm of her chair cross legged, facing Krymnt. Krymnt was vaguely sitting in her own chair, in the sense that a Nagaens could sit without having the posterior to sit on, playing with her messy curly hair. Qix wasn’t much less exposed now, but Krymnt tried not to stare like a lecherous monster.

“Now see, that’s the odd thing about you, Krymnt. One of the odd things. You are acting ashamed of being a Sleeper. Most of the Sleepers I’ve met are entitled, dismissive, or, at worst, embarrassed that they got caught as a Sleeper. You, on the other hand, actually seem apologetic about what you are, like its something wrong. Why is that?”

Krymnt shook her head. “I don’t know… I don’t know if I am supposed to explain. When I got here, I was told that… Riaritians aren’t supposed to dig into it, and I don’t want to get you into trouble with a god.”

“Well, listen. You don’t have to feel bad. You are the chosen of Fate. Whatever you are, as a Sleeper, it was meant to be. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Krymnt opened her mouth to object, and Qix didn’t let her, “No. I like you Krymnt. You are painfully honest, and polite.” She smiled wide, her little underjaw tusks jutting out. “And it warms my heart to see that you are attracted to my body. I don’t get many interested looks, halfbreed and Fae that I am.” 

Krymnt was definitely blushing now, and stared hard at one of the bookshelve, “I can’t imagine that. You are lovely. I didn’t mean to… Well, where I come from, people don’t dress quite the same way. I didn’t mean to stare. Sorry.”

“Well, given that modesty is a trait of Aethen and Sleepers, I am glad you like the way I look. You’ve taken to Nagaens customs well. I love the color of your sashes against your scales.” Qix fell back into the chair again, her feet dangling over the chair edge, her toenails as white as her teeth, bobbing slightly. “Don’t apologize. I like the attention. I’m sorry I had been so rude with you when you first came here. I’d just been dealing with a particularly vexing matter. You’ve given no offense, and there isn’t an interdiction to prevent us from asking, per se. Why don’t you feel like you can ask about magic? Don’t answer if it is bothersome, though.”

“Oh, it's fine. Like I said, I wasn’t really right to ask... I don’t… I can’t be certain if… Krymnt may come back to her body. I can’t keep that from her, and learning magic may make it harder. Or certainly drain her money.”

Qix sat up, normally for once, noticing Krymnt slowly uncoil. “Krymnt. You are Krymnt.” She stood and walked towards her. “There is no other.”

She finished unwinding for a bit, watching Qix like she was the snake, not the reverse, “I am not. Its… Sleepers take bodies, they aren’t who they were anymore.”

Qix shook her head, “No magic can do that. At worst, the gods woke you up to something you didn’t realize.” 

Krymnt swallowed very hard, “I wish I could believe that.” 

It wouldn’t make sense. At the very best, Earth-Krymnt could hope that Riariti-Krymnt was destined to die as soon as she took her body. But it's never that simple. Even if the Goddess of Fate was at hand. 

Krymnt reflected on what Essefy had said earlier, that there probably wasn’t a way to return this body to its owner. Krymnt had to figure out if she was willing to deal with that. If she wanted to ever come back. 

“Krymnt.” The nagaens started when she found the little fae next to her, her dark, warm hand on the green scales of her side, “The Goddess doesn’t choose Sleepers because it's easy. You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself for being what you are. Stay for tea? I’d offer you some biscuits, but I am not sure they’d be good for you.”

Krymnt really ought to go, but she didn’t think she’d be any use out there. Her morning was shot, and she’d planned to spend this afternoon putzing about. “Sure. Tea sounds good. I could handle a cookie or two.”

Krymnt looked around, trying to figure out where they were going to eat. 

“Oh no.” Qix patted her side before the hand slid away, “We don’t eat in the library. Pure of mind, Pure of home. Cleaning spells are easy to cast, but everything in its place, Krymnt.”

Qix pranced over to the staircase and gestured up. Krymnt, now certain the fae was teasing her, didn’t feel so guilty about watching Qix’s tail dance behind her. Krymnt had the decency to be circumspect, however. 

“You must have been collecting these books for a very long time.” Krymnt had been impressed by the library and sitting room. No one puts these books together like this and displays it on the entire first floor unless they were proud of it. 

“You have no idea, though some of them even belonged to my father’s original collection, monster that he was.” Qix went up the stairwell two steps at a time. The stairs were a little easier to navigate than most others, built for a fae, which meant that the many edges didn’t dig so much into Krymnt’s tail end.

The next floor was not as open as the library and sitting room below, separated into kitchen and dining room, bathroom and a small bedroom that was rather spartan. There were no doors anywhere that Krymnt could see. 

“Take a coil, I will get it prepped,” Qix moved around the small Fae kitchen, preparing water and a pot and leaves for tea. Krymnt tried to figure out what kind of tea it was, but the leaves looked odd, blue, not black or green. Clearly, it was a Riaritian tea, not a normal one. 

“How long does it take to become as successful as you here? This is a beautiful home.”

“Oh, you know, after a century and half of proper adventuring, it sort of fell into line. I found I was as good of a researcher and teacher as an adventurer. I found myself more or less drawn towards something with order too. I sold a few artifact’s found, some abandoned real-estate, and settled here because of the beauty and legends.”

Krymnt asked, “Anything I can do to help?” She’d already surged forward to help.

The fae gestured her off, “No no. I can handle tea in my own kitchen.” 

“Okay, fine…”  What kind of legends?” 

The fae glanced back at her, as she did something to what had to be a stove top, causing it to start glowing red in one circle on top. “Maybe you are a normal Sleeper after all.” 

Her raised eyebrow caused Krymnt to both smile and stick her pointed tongue out. “You were the one who mentioned they were interested in them. I am expressing polite interest.” 

“Point, Krymnt, I do like to talk about my work. Not many are so good a guest.” She stuck a dark tongue out at Krymnt, not as dark as her black skin. “I just wanted to make sure you were interested in more than my wise arcane knowledge.” She opened a cabinet as Krymnt scoffed, amused. 

She put the platter on the small counter, and opened another cabinet, pulling out a small cloth bag with the logo of a prominent bakery in town. “Well, the Crescent Valley itself has a bunch of history lost to time. Legends talk about how every few hundred years, monsters indescribable come from its depths, that it has caves as far north as the Devil’s Castle Mountains, that cults worship dark gods deep beneath the valley’s floor.” 

“Those are pretty fancy legends, but what brought you here? You said something particular drew your attention. Just monsters and caves?” Krymnt asked. Qix had dumped the bag’s contents onto the plate, careful not to spill the dozen of cookies, each as big as Qix’s palm. “I am not going to be able to eat all of those,” she commented, as the Fae slowly arranged the cookies, clearly powdered  liberally in white sugar. 

“Most of these are for me,” Qix glanced sideways at her, and Krymnt’s own tail tip twitched in amusement, gesturing for her to continue, “And you are right. I was drawn here by the legend of a mind-magic cult somewhere in the valley itself. I wanted to stop them if the rumors had been true, but they had ended up being long gone by the time I found their lair.” 

“They moved on?” 

She shook her head, seeming quite particular about where all the cookies went, careful not to be too messy with them. “Dead. Their group got trapped in rockfall and starved. I never found their altar, but more cave-ins had been evident. Here.” The fae grabbed one of the cookies she hadn’t been able to place and walked over to the nagaens. Krymnt took the cookie in her hand and considered it, trying to figure out how to eat it without getting crumbs everywhere.

“Anyway, by the time my journey was pretty much over, I came back to find the town beset by a storm of crystalline monstrosities, able to throw illusions and destructive light spells.”

“Mmm.” The noise was both for the cookie, surprisingly soft and citrusy, and for the conversation. Something like a lemon or lime flavoring, but also a little mineral-y. “Those indescribab-eh mons-ers?” The cookie was not easy to speak around, but she managed to cover her mouth and keep from leaking crumbs. 

“Exactly. Come on.” Qix didn’t seem to mind, as she picked up the platter and gave it to Krymnt. She then grabbed a pair of cups and four plates, made of the same clay, and gestured towards the dining room, with short table within. Not quite a Japanese kotatsu, but a stone table made for the fae, for sure. “So I came back and ended up helping the town out for the next few years as they came in waves. Ended up liking it here, and figured I’d stick around a while longer.”

“Wow, those are good. Any plans to go back to adventuring, or are you enjoying the consultation and training life?” Krymnt pulled out a chair and set it aside, not needing it for her end. She was a little tall for the table, only able to make herself so short. 

“Oh maybe in another hundred years or so. I still have a lot of the world to see, but I am not exactly hurting for more travelling just yet. Let me get some napkins.”

Krymnt nodded asking after the Fae just in the other room, “So what element are you? Didn’t you say I was Earth?” It would confirm what was on her system menu, at least. Krymnt arranged the plates and cups appropriately, according to her plan.

“I’m an Air. You probably had trouble seeing it in those glasses. My aura isn’t exactly easy to see, given my mostly White aura.” She came back with cloth napkins, but the pot had begun to whistle with heat. 

“The Red is your other color?” Qix flashed her a smile of affirmation, but bounced off to get the tea kettle.  

When she came back to place the kettle on the table, the kettle and a sugar dish were levitating behind her, no-doubt magic. She placed it near Krymnt with a mat separating the hot kettle from the stone table. Qix took her own seat and began to pour.

They sat and chatted for some time, Krymnt trying to explain what she did when she wasn’t on Riariti as a mechanical engineer without being able to use terms like mass production and structural defects. Qix explained a little about her own tribe. 

At the end of it, Qix thanked Krymnt for staying and calming her nerves, as the wizard had a long night of healing ahead of her, and Krymnt bid her farewell, saying she may not see Qix for a couple weeks. 

Krymnt left the wizard’s home and went to hunt dinner for the evening. Cookies were well and good, but she needed something with a little more protein involved for herself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry its been a while. This is one of my side projects, more or less, but I've been thinking about this story a lot! Mostly because I think about Magience a lot. Probably too much. I also wrote a book! for what its worth. 
> 
> Anyway, this is def the clean version of this chapter, and probably the canon version. I wrote twice as much more, but, ah, well, what is fanfiction if not self-indulgent? I know most of the people involved with Magience are pretty sex repulsed anyway. Hope you all enjoyed!


	11. Interlude

Krymnt didn’t really sleep that night. She made an honest effort, and even though the day was truly exhausting. It was her last night in the world. In the game. She got off the bed she’d rented with a stolen identity’s money. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She shouldn’t be anywhere, but here especially.

Krymnt got out of her bed and slithered to the bathroom with little difficulty in the dark. Infravision. Tail and no legs. Her. This body wasn’t her’s; she likely killed the occupant permanently. Krymnt had to figure out if she could live on Riariti with that knowledge. That night’s letter to herself was three times longer than her previous ones, most of it talking about the day’s events, but quite a bit of it was simply apologizing to the body, to the former owner, to herself.

She packed and put her saddlebags and backpack on. Her hookstaff held loosely at her side, Krymnt went downstairs to drop off the keys at the front desk, with a note thanking them for her stay.

Krymnt wandered out into the dark night, illuminated by two moons, both half full. The city was calm and quiet, but her head wouldn’t be. She wandered the streets she was familiar enough with by day, noting that several restaurants were busy with customers even late into the evening, and nodding to the guards who occasionally crossed her path.

She found herself in the temple district of all places, staring around at the various temples that she barely knew. A few of them were familiar. She’d delivered a few letters to a few of the temples, but what drew her eye was statue at the center of the square. The Statue of Fate, the Goddess of Sleepers and… the respawn point.

That discordant reminder that this was just a game for herself, for the rest of the Sleepers made her stomach churn. She would remain alive even after dying. She was the uncanny valley in this game, not the natives.

Krymnt didn’t see anyone who looked like player characters in the clearing. In fact, most of the temples were more or less dark, but for the temple for what Krymnt assumed was the sun god, as well as a few other temples. On the roof of one temple, she could see that there were a few Nagaens looking up at the stars via telescopes. Or via something that looked like a telescope.

Krymnt stared at the statue of Fate from the shadows of one of the temples - she wasn’t sure of the name but it was not the one who’d tried to give her a token - from an alley that led into the temple square.

Krymnt slithered her way towards the statue, angry and afraid. She reached out to touch the statue before pausing a moment.

She pulled her hand back, balled into a fist.

She could damn her body to revive here another time. Krymnt still had dreams of giving this body back, and the Goddess of Fate, whatever mechanic that represented, wouldn’t stop her.

Krymnt found a small out of the way corner in the city, behind a building and a set of public restrooms, and logged out.

_He didn't wake up as he signed out, but when his alarm went off about twenty minutes later. Habit has him wake up hours before work. Playing a game while he slept didn't change this, though his initial regret at losing a day in a game to sit around for an hour in the real world didn't take long to get over._

_Halfway to the bathroom he wondered if he’d have trouble remembering how to walk. Clearly not. His habits placed him going to the restroom, getting on the computer for an hour, shower, shave (also in the shower), brush teeth and play on the computer a little longer before heading to work, most of this with a coffee mug at hand._

_Today, very little time on the computer was spent browsing his usual websites._

_He looked through websites, gaming ones primarily, trying to find someone who had the same issue he had. Rave reviews, lots of explanations about how it's a game impossible to describe. Forums agree, comments from people who have and haven't played arguing about how the game is obviously way overhyped._

_He did find a few threads of people complaining that the game was too harsh and realistic, punishing them for the most innocuous crimes of breaking and entertaining, and trespassing. “What's the use of an open world if everything's illegal?!” Another set of people complain that it is too realistic sometimes, in that they have to spend time every transaction haggling over prices. Not exactly the same situation._

_He also checked the official Magience website and logged in to take a look at the status of his ticket. Nothing._

_Work was normal. He was an engineer, working for a company that supported the HVAC and filtering system for Romerus City government. Not glamorous, writing instructions on how to replace older sets of filters for a new design using some expensive electromesh and how to repair it. Not quite fulfilling, but paid well, and justified his few extra years of education. In a decade, he could look forward to actually designing the next set of electromesh, but his heart didn’t quicken at the thought._

_His coworkers were okay. He went out to lunch with them, the food not tasting nearly as good as in Magience, a strange thought. His male - most of his coworkers were male - coworkers, sensing his melancholia, tried to cheer him up with a few more jokes at the expense of his ex-fiancee. His thin smile was as hollow as his interest in their support. He turned them down for a night at a barcade. He did not drink, and frankly he wasn’t interested in socializing with them. Regardless of their disregard for his break up._

_He wish he’d never told them. It hadn’t been an inimical break-up, they were just too different as people, but that made it worse to mock, not easier._

_He left work and went to the store for a set of prepackaged meals for the evenings for the next week. The variety flavor pack of nutrient rich pseudo chimichangas were not his favorite, but it was easy and he didn’t want to worry about food. Last week, he had different sets of “home cooked” meals, and they were okay too._

_He spent all day checking his email. No one emailed him about his issues with the game._

_He finished dinner, trying to find others who seemed to have the same issues he had. A few, but they seemed to resolve their concerns quick enough. He sighed._

_It was three hours before he usually went to bed. Three more days in a body she’d… he’d stolen._

_He didn't have any friends. His fiancé had been the social one. He just had a few people he chatted with online, and none of them had the kind of money to lay down for Magience nor the same gaming inclinations._

_He held out for an hour longer but finally sighed and finished his evening coffee and cleaned up for the night, setting up tomorrow's coffee. He also washed up for bed in his tiny one and a half room apartment without looking in the mirror. He usually spent the day avoiding them, so today had been good enough for him in that small regard, at least._

_He logged back in, settling into bed early and hoping things would be better this time. That he would get the news, good or bad, soon. His hands shook while he put his headset on._

Logging back in after two weeks - or fourteen hours - was not easier or harder than the first time. She had started off in a forest glen with a small crystal pond, still male and very naked. Essefy had helped her pick her body.

This time, she materialized in the body of a Nagaens. In the body of Krymnt.

Fourteen days. Maybe they found the person that mind-blasted the guard and Wrestl.

Krymnt looked around, hoping she hadn’t disturbed anyone by appearing from thin air. It was early morning, considering the long shadows that covered the alley she hid herself in, between the walls of the city proper and an older government building she’d delivered mail to a couple times, where the local council met regularly to discuss whatever it was that local councils discussed for a town this size. There was a regional building that housed most of the offices and staff, this was just a small meeting hall.

Krymnt was struck again at how easy it was to be back in this body. She wished it could always be this easy. She almost wished she’d never selected a female body. Krymnt hadn’t even considered the option when creating her character. It just made real life harder, with the prospect of ten days in this body, and one supposedly real day in her normal body.

She gripped her staff harder at the thought of just logging out and leaving the game forever. Her staff had been out since she’d left the inn last time, wandering the town at night. It had just been something for her hands to worry as she wandered the town at night, ready to log off. She might as well put it away.

“Hey Krymnt.”

She made a small noise - a hiss, how stereotypical she thought, even as her heart sped- and reared back, her spear yanked back out of the holster she’d just been placing it into.

“Whoa, warrior girl, you needn’t point that at me.”

Essefy, her glowing pink-rimmed yellow form stood before her again, hands upraised in a calming gesture. The creative assistant and - what, artificial intelligence? - stood further into the alleyway that Krymnt had just hidden herself in, the glowing creative assistant well defined in the shadows.

Krymnt lowered herself back down, having climbed to nearly eight feet tall, feeling a little stupid.

“Sorry, Krymnt. I didn’t mean to surprise you.” She sounded truly apologetic this time, not teasing.

“No, I feel a little stupid. Sorry.” Krymnt rolled her shoulders, “Didn’t mean react like that.” She put her staff away again as Essefy spoke.

“No, the faults truly on my end. I figured you’d want to hear back as soon as you logged back in, but I didn’t need to surprise you.” There was that pause between words, as if someone was considering exactly how to ask a hard question. When it finally came, Krymnt was a little surprised. “You... doing okay?”

Krymnt looked up, her weapon secure, blinking. “Um, yeah, I think so?...” Krymnt had a feeling for what this was about, but her default response to any question about how she was doing nearly always ended up affirmative. People rarely wanted to actually hear how she was doing, and it was often too complicated for idle chatter. Lying was easier than being honest all the time. “ How are you?”

Essefy, as physically expressive, brushed off the comment figuratively and metaphorically with a wave of her hand, “I’m fine. I’m worried about you.” Essefy took a step closer to Krymnt, half out of the narrow alley to within arms reach. “You were in a state of it last time we spoke.”

The last time Krymnt and Essefy spoke, Krymnt had been in a state of anxious shock. She’d went to a Nagaens bathroom and called the Creative Assistant. Essefy had to watch as Krymnt stumbled out all the words to explain what happened to Wrestl and the nagaens guard.

Essefy had to reassure Krymnt, even placing her arms around the over-emotional Sleeper, to calm her down and to slow down her babbling. Essefy interacted with a menu that Krymnt couldn’t see, and regretfully informed that the whole incident was no glitch, and well within the confines of the game, even as odd as it was.

Embarrassed, Krymnt thanked her and let her go, so that she didn’t waste even more of the Creative Assistant. Essefy didn’t leave until Krymnt stopped shaking though.

Krymnt was desperately embarrassed at how much of an emotional burden she was being on people even inside a game.

Offering a thin grimace, Krymnt’s wry voice didn’t quite hide how much that embarrassment still affected her. “I’m fine.” At Essefy’s eyeless, but pointed stare, she answered again, “I’m better at least. I can’t be responsible for all the ills in this world. Whatever happened to Wrestl was an unfortunate accident. Not a portent of my presence.”

“Portent, really?” Essefy pointed at the word, figuratively hanging in the air. “You are getting into the fantasy mindset, aren’t you?”

“I use weird worlds in the real… err-” Do creative assistants have enough self-awareness to be insulted by having this world being described as not real? Did Krymnt actually believe it wasn’t real? “-in my native world all the time.”

“Fair enough. But you are still not answering the question, my favorite Sleeper. Are you okay?” Her good humor did not mask her concern.

“There isn’t a way to quit this game and give Krymnt her life back, is there?” Krymnt asked, sighing.

Essefy paused, but only for a moment, “No. There isn’t.” Krymnt nodded at this, not surprised, but not willing to interrupt, “If it makes you feel any better, Riariti believes in reincarnation. She may well get to experience her life again. It doesn’t sound like it was a bad one to live and her next may be better.”

“Then I am doing only ‘okay’. I feel terrible. I’ll live. Hopefully, Krymnt will have another, better life that won’t get stolen.”

Essefy asked, politely, as if she weren’t sure the answer, “What are you going to do then?”

“I'm here, aren't I?” She didn't think she’d stop playing, not unless she could return Riariti-Krymnt her life back. Confirmed now that this body was forfeit, Krymnt shook her head, “I guess figure out what happened to Wrestl and that guard. Being terrible for stealing a life is one thing. Stealing that life and throwing it away seems worse.”

“That’s… not really a good motivation to keep playing?”

“Hmmm.” Krymnt had so many other selfish reasons to keep playing, but Essefy wasn’t being paid nearly enough to be her counselor. “I’m sure another good reason will show up eventually.” Krymnt looked from the middle distance, to Essefy again. “What happens if people spot you here?”

“Oh, natives can’t see me. You look incredibly crazy right now.” When Essefy saw Krymnt frown, the creative assistant broke her serious tone to laugh, “Oh sorry, sorry. No, you look like you are talking to an advanced communication spell. Probably, if anyone could find us in this back alley, you look like you have big secret and powerful allies.”

Krymnt wasn’t sure she liked this any better, but at least she didn’t look like a Sleeper, talking to a god’s servant or some such fiction. Unless. “You aren’t a servant of the ‘Goddess of Fate’, are you?”

Essefy laughed, “Oh no. No. Do I seem like a good angel or acolyte to you?” Krymnt shrugged nonchalantly, not dismissing it out of hand, but Essefy waved it off. “I am just a creative assistant. I don’t, you know, interact with much but Sleepers and other Assistants.”

Krymnt, smiled at that, but she was still a little sad to hear it. “Sorry, Too bad you guys can’t have your own character to pop in and out of. All work and no play.”

Essefy shook her head, “You worry too much about others. Go have fun today. I will send you a message later, and expect a full report on your fun, alright?” Essefy put her fists on her hips, and stared down Krymnt. Krymnt assumed she made fists, though it was hard to tell with the robes. The nagaens must have had a strange look on, because Essefy added, more worried, “I mean, if you want. I can leave you alone too.”

Krymnt smiled, more honest this time. “No, that’s fine. I appreciate it, and would like that. Don’t go out of your way for me, though, okay?”

Essefy waved her off, “Psh, I have access to the entire Matrix, I can write a letter with a thought. Don’t worry about me. Besides, you go out of the way for everyone else.”

Krymnt shrugged, “That’s because I’m already more a burden than a boon to locals.” Krymnt interrupted before Essefy could retort, “I’ll write back. You have a good day too, Essefy.”

Essefy waved goodbye and faded away, and Krymnt slunk into town proper.


End file.
